Beautiful as Flame
by Kendarrr
Summary: MILF!QUINN FIC. Rachel (23 years old, a NYADA grad student) resigned herself to spending the winter break alone until a member of her college glee club, freshman Beth Fabray, invites her to New Haven to spend the break with her and her mom, the beautiful Quinn Fabray. From the moment Rachel laid eyes on Beth's mom, she knew she would not get out of the holidays without being burnt.
1. Chapter 1

FINALLY, AM I RIGHT? With how long this took, I'm afraid that a) it would not clear expectations, b) people got too impatient that they just won't read it at all and c) it isn't very good. BUT, ONWARDS.

Thank you to everyone who encouraged me as I wrote this whenever I reach my darkest hours.

Updates are on Tuesday and Thursday nights Eastern Standard Time. I don't see the point of making you wait, dear reader, since the point of writing the entire fic before posting is so that the wait time is minimal.

While it's now only rated T, it will be bumped up to a rated E/M down the line.

* * *

The NYADA glee club sang the final note of their harmonious acapella rendition of "I Want You Back" in the middle of the quad, where a convenient campus tour group just passed by. As if it was not contrived, the tour guide stopped so the wide-eyed applicants could watch, alongside their parents. Once the performance ended, the visitors were the first ones to applaud, followed by the scattered student population. The glee club waved in every direction and bowed in unison.

"Great job, you guys," Rachel Berry, the club president, grinned at her group.

Their group of seven people trudged through the snow-covered path and into the student activity building where the student club offices were housed. The glee club's office was in the basement, along with the rest of the music-oriented clubs, because the hallways had the best acoustics. Sound carried to the main floor of the building, enough to create intrigue for students, but not enough to carry to the top floors where the less performance-oriented clubs would get distracted by the rehearsals. Tina, the treasurer, immediately sat in front of the computer once Rachel unlocked the door to the office. It was a cramped, windowless room lit by a harsh fluorescent light. The walls painted a dull cream, with barely enough for a computer desk, a shelf, and three folding chairs.

"The money finally came through from the student council, plus the money from this gig," she announced. Student Recruitment often hired performance clubs to draw in potential students by sending them to perform around Times Square, or to busk in the subway stations. Or, as was the case for the glee club, they were hired to perform around the campus where touring potential students – and their moneyed parents – could watch. "That puts us up right to the budget for the Underground Show Choir Competition. Plus with a little extra."

"Let's go out for sushi and drinks after!" Mike suggested.

"Only if we win," Rachel said. "Marley, contact the USCC and tell them we're competing again this year."

Marley, the vice president, gave a salute. "Roger that," she stepped away from her conversation with Beth to make the call. Rachel then took that opportunity to approach the girl.

Beth Fabray, a startlingly-beautiful blonde first year, with dark brown eyes and the jawline of a Greek goddess, was the only new member they managed to recruit that year. Even then, she was the one who approached the glee club rather than the usual new member campaign that happened during the first two weeks of term. Her audition song, she had explained, was the song her mom sang when _she_ auditioned for her high school's glee club. Beth accompanied her rendition of "I Say A Little Prayer For You" with a dance.

Naturally, that endeared her to Rachel.

"How did you feel about the number? Are you getting more comfortable with public performances?"

Beth toyed with her long blonde hair and nodded. "I think so. The USCC performance makes me nervous thinking about it because it's a competition – meaning we can lose and I _hate_ losing - but other than that, I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"It's not until after the winter break so don't worry about it too much. Although, it would likely mean we'd be out of practice given that we can't rehearse during the break…" Rachel chewed her bottom lip. "I suppose as long as we each practice our parts it should be a cinch to coordinate in a group setting when we come back from vacation."

Since the meeting ended and everybody dispersed, Rachel lingered with Tina to discuss the budget further. Beth hung around as well, chatting with Marley. Her shoulder leaned heavily against the wall, and she looked at Marley with such wide eyes. Once Rachel and Tina agreed on how to split the money between costumes and other expenses, Rachel left the treasurer to lock up the office.

Marley left a few minutes ago to head to class but Beth mentioned that she had an hour break, so she thought she might hang around the office to get some of her readings done.

"You didn't walk Marley to class?" Rachel teased, sitting beside the girl amidst the couches scattered throughout the hallway.

"Oh," Beth blinked. "Should I have?"

Rachel laughed. "Your crush on her is adorable. When I was your age…"

"You're only five years older than me."

"With age comes wisdom — sometimes, anyway."

They chatted for a bit, and wound up discussing winter break. Beth asked Rachel if she planned to go back to Ohio for the winter, but the older student shook her head.

"My dads are taking their second — well, I guess this'll be their fifth, honestly — honeymoon in Europe over the holidays, so there's really no point for me to visit Ohio since they're my only family there. I think I'll be staying here."

"Alone?" A look of concern crossed Beth's features. "That doesn't seem very festive."

"I'll be in New York," Rachel shrugged. "What more could I want?"

"I guess, but it's a different thing to spend Christmas, or even New Year's Eve by yourself — oh, I know!" Beth exclaimed. "Would you like to spend the holidays with me and my mom?"

Rachel raised a brow and held up her hands. "No, no. You should spend your holidays with your family."

"I will — you'll just be spending it with us, too. And you'll be doing _me_ a favour — my mom doesn't really know I like girls," at this, Beth blushed. "Not that she's homophobic or anything. Aunt Britt and aunt Tana – my godmothers – are her best friends, after all — but I don't really want to come out to her at any point during the break so if you're there with me, all the attention could be on you and she'll ask me less questions! I'll ask my mom tonight," Beth rose to grab her things. "Think about it too, okay?"

Rachel had no choice but to watch Beth run upstairs. She sighed.

"Wow, Beth gets pretty intense," Tina laughed. "Kind of like you, when you were that age."

"Be quiet," Rachel said without any anger nor malice in her voice whatsoever.

* * *

Rachel did not have the chance to see Beth until finals were over when she called for a quick glee club meeting before they all parted for the holidays. She announced the setlist but told them not to worry about the arrangement just yet — she would work on that over the break.

"Rachel, my mom said she'd love it if you spend the break with us," Beth batted her eyelashes and adopted a demure and shy persona — at least it looked like she was learning something from her classes in NYADA, Rachel mused. "I told her about you and the glee club and she said she wants to meet you."

"Okay, okay, tone it down" Rachel rolled her eyes with a smile. "If you really don't mind having me in your house for a whole month, I'll go."

"Yay!" Beth clapped her hands together. She stopped bouncing long enough to rummage through her backpack and procured a printed train ticket. "Thank goodness, because she already bought and paid for your ticket."

Rachel's jaw fell and she palmed her forehead. "I'm beginning to see similarities between you and your mom and I haven't even met her yet…" She grumbled. "What if I said no?"

"Tickets are refundable within thirty days of purchase date," Beth stated as if she memorized the Metro North Rail terms and conditions. "This'll be fun! I'm so excited! Oh, and if you need to work on the song arrangements, we have a piano at home, if that'll help."

Beth continued to ramble on and on about the things she and Rachel could do while visiting her mom in New Haven, Connecticut, a two-hour train ride from New York. They would leave in five days, on Sunday, when the campus officially closed for the winter break.

"You're spending the holidays with Beth?" Marley asked Rachel, and Beth stopped bouncing — finally. "That sounds fun!"

"I am. Want to take my place, Marley?"

The look of panic that flashed through Beth's eyes was worth it, though it only lasted for two seconds before Marley put Beth out of her misery. "Sorry, can't. My mom's been looking forward to seeing me since midterm break. Maybe next time."

Rachel bade everyone to have a restful vacation as everyone parted ways. She remained at the office to clean up, since no one would be around for the next month or so. She unplugged the computer, made sure there were no valuables inside, before she closed the office door and locked it. Beth remained, sitting on the hallway couch, lost in thought.

"She said next time, so maybe there's hope," Rachel nudged Beth by the shoulders. "You should just ask Marley out on a date. Not to the student pub because you're underage, but… somewhere."

"What if she says no?"

"What if she says yes?"

"What if the date is awkward and she never wants to see me again?"

"What if the date is fun and she asks you out for a second date?"

Beth opened her mouth for another comeback but Rachel stood up with a small laugh. "You can come up with any scenario you like, but the best way to know what will happen is to actually do it. Are we taking a cab to Grand Central together or do you want to meet there?"

* * *

Rachel packed some food in her backpack for the train ride to New Haven. She and Beth planned to meet at Grand Central Station since Beth's overachieving personality got in the way — she wanted to talk to her professor about her grade for the final exam — which Rachel did not mind. She was the same when she was an undergraduate, after all.

"I'll see you in a month," Rachel told Tina and Mike who offered to drop her off at the station in Mike's beat-up car. "Have fun in Lima — as much fun as you can, anyway."

"Tell us all about Beth's mom when you meet her!" Her two roommates waved and drove off down to the busy New York streets. Rachel wheeled her luggage behind her and sought out the platform for the train that would take her to New Haven. Rachel caught sight of a blonde head and approached Beth who was already reading a book while she munched on a granola bar.

"How did your meeting with your professor go?" Rachel asked as they boarded the train. They took over two seats across from one another.

"Good — I persuaded her to bump me up to a solid A instead of an A minus. Which _means_ if I keep my average, I'll be on honour roll," Beth beamed and flashed Rachel a peace sign.

Rachel laughed and got comfortable in her seat. "That's amazing. I'm happy for you."

The train announcements started and within the hour the clatter of the train against the tracks lulled Rachel into a dazed state. She admired the passing of the countryside — or rather, the nature landscape one saw while traversing the interstate. Snow dusted the fields, and Rachel noticed that the farther north the train pushed on, the thicker the snow covered the ground.

She really did brace herself to a lonely time during the holidays — it would not be the first time. Dating did not pan out for her, especially not when she was so focused on her studies and her budding career. She hardly had the time to do as Beth did — have a crush on Marley and not do anything about it. Not that it was a bad thing, but Rachel would rather be memorizing lines than deal with the distracting feelings of having a crush.

The cart that sold refreshments passed them, and Rachel watched in amusement when Beth purchased enough chocolate to give three people heartburn. She tried to wheedle what scant information Beth was willing to give about her mother, as a point of conversation, but the younger girl only smiled and licked her chocolate-covered fingers.

"Well, my mom likes long walks on the beach…"

Rachel rolled her eyes and let Beth go back to listening to her podcasts while she stared out the window to enjoy the rollicking hills, the stretch of the interstate highway as the train continued on to New Haven.

After the second hour, the train slowed to a stop and announced its arrival in New Haven Union Station. Rachel followed Beth out of the train, their luggage trailing behind them. Suddenly, Rachel felt a discomfort creep up her spine. She had never been in Connecticut before, let alone in New Haven. It was busy, sure. The stone arches, the wooden benches, and the lamps that hung from the ceiling gave the station a rustic feeling. It definitely wasn't New York.

"Where is she — oh! Mom!" Beth waved her arms and Rachel looked off towards the direction of where Beth was looking. The crowd parted and out stepped a woman — for which words to describe her escaped Rachel. She managed to control herself long enough for her jaw to not drop to the floor, though her heart did race like the clattering of the train against the tracks.

Beth's mom was beautiful. Laugh lines adorned the corners of her eyes as she caught a glimpse of her daughter. She was elegantly dressed in a green peacoat the colour of ferns that brought out the vibrancy of her hazel eyes, a cream cable knit sweater, and a long tweed skirt. She wore calf-high leather boots.

She engulfed Beth in an embrace, laughed the sort of laugh that bordered on infectious. She leaned back to get a good look at Beth before smothering her face with kisses — but she paused.

"Do I smell Reese Cups on your breath? Did you buy me one?"

Rolling her eyes, Beth procured a pack of the aforementioned chocolates. "Of course. Mom, this is Rachel."

Truly, Rachel would have been content with watching this woman who was so beautiful that it rendered her speechless. But now that her attention was on her, she cleared her throat and held out her hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fabray — "

The older woman smiled. "Please, just call me Quinn. Not to mention — I'm unmarried," she winked and Rachel had to resist the urge to clutch her chest. Her heart seized. Quinn took Rachel's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Rachel wished she did not have to let go.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Rachel. Beth talked about you a lot," Quinn glanced at her daughter who smiled. Rachel followed the two blondes to the parking lot. Quinn popped the trunk of her sedan and Rachel and Beth both lifted their bags into it.

"I was in glee club too, back in high school," Quinn continued as she started the car and clipped her seatbelt. She pulled out of the station's parking lot. "We won the show choir championship once — and by the seat of our pants. Honestly, it's a miracle we even won."

"Beth mentioned that her audition song was the same one you did for your glee club audition."

"She did?" Quinn looked surprised, and one look at Beth told Rachel that she did not mention this to her mom at all. "Oh sweetheart, you're adorable," Quinn giggled and leaned over the console to kiss the side of Beth's head. "She didn't tell me, but I'm so flattered."

"Anyway," Beth interrupted with a huff. "Did you do it?" She asked her mom. Rachel was more than happy to sit in the backseat and watch the mother and daughter catch up on all the conversations they missed. It made Rachel miss her dads, but it also made her wonder what it was like to have a mother.

"Do what?" Quinn asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb, _mother_."

"No, _honey_. I did not go on a date," Quinn said as she rolled her eyes.

"You _promised_." Beth turned in her seat to address Rachel. "Did you know my mom has been single in _forever_ — "

"That makes me sound like I'm ancient."

" — and I don't know, I'm just worried, so when I left for New York I made her promise to go on _one_ date — a single date — before I go back for winter break and she didn't even do it! I just don't want you to be lonely, mom."

"Why would I be lonely when I have you to nag me?" Quinn asked sweetly.

"But half the time I'm in college!"

"Your aunts keep me company, you know?"

"All the way in Los Angeles? I mean, friends are one thing. Love and romance is another thing entirely! Dad has no issue with dating, so — "

"First of all, we both know your dad is — "

"A ho."

Quinn threw her head back and laughed. "Not my first choice of word but yes, he's a ho. And I don't really want to be comparable to him."

"Well, fine," Beth conceded. "You don't have to date around as much as him, but — "

"It's not for lack of trying, sweetheart. The people I meet, there's just something that's incompatible. There's something missing. Or maybe they just don't like me. Maybe your dear old mom's just not attractive anymore — "

"That's absurd," Rachel muttered, more to herself, but judging from the way Quinn glanced at the rearview mirror with sparkling eyes, the older woman heard her.

* * *

The Fabray house was a colonial structure in the middle of winding New Haven suburban streets. A two-feet mound of snow walled the sidewalk and the edges of the lawn. The red tip of a lawn gnome's hat poked out of the snow, its paint chipped and half-faded. Rachel climbed the three steps of the porch, following the two Fabrays as they talked a mile a minute about Beth's classes, Quinn's work, and everything in between.

The interior of the house, with its white walls and large windows that let the scant winter light in illuminated the space with such stark brightness. Books and vinyl records crammed the shelves that stretched from one wall to another, and above the shelves were framed artworks, from prints of paintings (Rachel could identify the _Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog _and _La Bella Rafaela _any day), architectural sketches of historical New Haven buildings, a printed photograph of Emily Dickinson with Sue Gilbert, and burlesque posters. There was a record player, a miniature bust of Oscar Wilde, and sprigs of spruce poked out of a vase. An upright piano sat near the sliding glass doors that opened into the backyard.

The home appeared cluttered without feeling oppressive. Lived in.

"Your home is beautiful," Rachel said in soft awe. She learned from her dads to always compliment the home, regardless. But in this case, Rachel meant it whole-heartedly.

"Mom works for a home interior and architecture magazine so she knows a lot about decor," Beth said from the kitchen.

"Oh, great. How nice of you to finally tell me something about your mom."

Beth laughed. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Water would be great, thanks."

Quinn tossed her car keys in a wooden bowl by the front door, shrugged off her coat and swept back her golden hair that reached a few inches past the pale column of her neck. Rachel caught a peek of a gold cross necklace that rested against the hollow of Quinn's neck. When the older woman turned, Rachel immediately looked away.

Dating in New York was hard, but she didn't think it was _that_ difficult that she would be thirsting for her friend's _mother_.

"I'll show you to your room, Rachel," Quinn said as she unravelled her scarf. God, even the simple way she said Rachel's name, the way her mouth formed around the phonetics of it… Rachel forced herself not to think too much about it or she would lose her mind. She followed the older woman upstairs with her luggage.

"That's the bathroom, the first door to your left. Beth's room," Quinn gestured to a door adorned with stickers and held the girl's nameplate. "My office," Quinn pointed further down the hall that was ajar. "I always keep the door open — I don't like being isolated. Doors would only close if I have a phone call to make. That's my bedroom," she said of the double-doors. "And here's the guest room."

Quinn led the way into the spacious guest bedroom. Inside was a queen-sized bed and a writing desk. The walls were white, except for the accent wall, which was painted the same blue as the night sky.

"Make yourself at home, okay? I know you must feel like you're impinging, but you're not. I would not have invited you if I felt that way," Quinn touched Rachel's shoulder and looked at her with soft eyes, eyes that were one step away from buckling Rachel's knees — _seriously _what was wrong with her? "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

It might just be Rachel's imagination (or wishful thinking), but the way Quinn said it, paired with the way she looked at her — expectantly, teasing — held an implication that made Rachel's blood boil. She clenched her jaw and smiled at Quinn. She managed to stammer out a half-coherent response. "I-I'll let you know. Thanks again for letting me stay here."

"You're welcome," Quinn removed her hand from Rachel's shoulder, and Rachel could only hope that her disappointment was not evident in her face. "Dinner is at seven."

* * *

Rachel dumped her backpack on the floor and collapsed on the softness of the bed. The clean, laundered scent of the sheets rose to meet her, and she closed her eyes to bask in that comforting smell.

She had a month to spend in this house, and already she was halfway to being a wreck for _Beth's mom _– if she wasn't already. There must be some kind of friend code being broken as Rachel thought of the dancer's grace Quinn possessed when she leapt over a puddle, the way she threw her head back whenever she laughed. How she swept her blonde hair off her face when the winter breeze had other ideas…

And she knew she said she had no time for crushes, or _feelings_ that had nothing to do with advancing her career, but… it was the winter break! Maybe it was why she was far more emotionally-volatile than normal.

Grumbling to herself, Rachel sat up to store her clothes in the empty drawers. Refusing to wallow in her attraction (and instead, perhaps, immerse herself fully into it) Rachel left her bedroom that would be hers for the month to head downstairs. She stopped by the foot of the stairs when she heard Beth's voice, as well as Quinn's, from the kitchen.

"...dating anyone?" Quinn wheedled. "Don't tell me you're just studying and not enjoying your youth!"

"Mom," Beth whined, and Rachel took that moment to make her entrance. The younger girl shot Rachel a grateful look. "Rachel, can you _please_ tell my mom I have a social life?"

"Beth's pretty active in our glee club," Rachel offered. "She might have an executive position by next year, most likely."

Quinn leaned her elbow against the counter and eyed Rachel with a raised brow — which she had to fight tooth and nail not to just stand there and stare into Quinn's eyes, the golden ratio of her face, the way she _smirked_.

"I'm glad you're making friends," she returned her attention to her daughter who was currently peeling potatoes over the sink. "But that's not what I asked. I asked if you're dating anyone. Rachel, perhaps?"

Rachel's eyes widened, and so did Beth's. "Stop it, you're making Rachel uncomfortable." Beth threw a potato peel at her mom, and Quinn shrieked in laughter when it stuck to her cheek. "Rachel's cute and all, but I don't think it'll work out."

"I like older women," Rachel blurted out, with a smile so it would come off as a joke — but then when Quinn gave her _a look_, Rachel froze and sputtered. "I - I - I mean…"

Quinn giggled and tossed the potato peel in Rachel's direction, only for it to narrowly miss her.

"Geez, Rachel. Keep it in your pants," Beth teased.

* * *

Dinner with the two Fabray women was eventful, to say the least. Rachel knew, from the moment Beth auditioned for NYADA's glee club that she was smart, interested in a lot of things, and could talk about anything to anyone. Now that Rachel met Quinn, she could see where Beth got her diverse erudition from.

Quinn was charming, a gracious host. With her beautiful laughter, the table was always in a bout of giggles. She served first and ate last. She always ensured that Rachel's glass of water was full.

"Would you like some wine, Rachel?" Quinn asked when she rose to grab a bottle from a shelf she had at the kitchen. "I have red, rosé, white, and orange."

"What's orange wine?" Rachel asked.

"It's white wine, really, but the grape skins were not removed during fermentation. A cross between a red and a white, I guess you can say."

"Ooh, can I have some rosé?" Beth did not wait for Quinn's express permission — she went and grabbed herself a wine glass while she looked over the opened bottles of wine, decided on one, and carried it to the dinner table.

Quinn looked affronted. "Are you twenty-one? Is she twenty-one?" She asked Rachel, returning to the table with a glass of orange wine and two wine glasses. "Did I sneeze and suddenly three years passed and I'm thirty-seven? What's happening here?"

"The only rule you had for alcohol is to not drink around people I don't trust," Beth said as she poured herself half a wine glass. "This is all I'll drink, I promise."

Rachel blinked. If Quinn was thirty-four now and Beth is eighteen, then…

"Doing some quick math in your head, Rachel?" Quinn teased. She poured amber wine into a glass and offered it to her. "I was sixteen when I had Beth."

"Oh," Rachel took the glass and hazarded a sip. The flavours that coated her tongue were complex, strong, and dry. "Age problems were never my strong suit," she said, to dispel any awkwardness that may have arisen from her curiosity. But judging from the way Quinn smiled, she did not think much of it.

"It's okay, I'm not ashamed of it," Quinn said. "I'll tell you the story later, if you're up for it. Beth hates it when I re-tell it."

"It makes me cry every time," grumbled the younger blonde. And, sure enough, she had tears in her eyes. She wiped them away hastily.

They resumed conversation about lighter topics, mostly of Quinn asking Rachel about her field of study, her focus being on the Jewish legacy of Broadway musicals. She explained — mostly to Quinn, since Rachel was Beth's TA in Broadway History — the roots of Broadway, and to her credit, Quinn did not look bored. In fact, she looked riveted, more than anything.

"I knew you two would get along. You two are both nerds," Beth grinned while sipping her rosé. "May I be excused? I need to call my high school friends so we can figure out when we can all meet up."

"Sure, sweetheart. Thank you for cooking dinner."

Beth downed the rest of her wine and rose from the table. She ran upstairs and the sound of her bedroom door slamming echoed throughout the house. Thus leaving Rachel alone with Quinn.

It might have been the sheer placebo-strength of the wine, but in the dusky New Haven light, in that warm dining room with the aftertaste of junipers and hazelnut that clung to her lips, with Quinn looking at her with a lazy half-smile, Rachel felt as if she was burning.

She cleared her throat and folded her utensils on top of her plate. "I should do the dishes — it's the least I could do." Rachel shot up from her seat and carried her plate and Quinn's to the sink, where Beth had placed her own before she went back to her room. Rachel surveyed the deep sink, found the sponge and the bottle of dishwashing soap, and proceeded to turn on the tap.

She did not hear Quinn come up behind her, but she did smell the older woman. Her perfume, something mildly fruity with the hint of spring, followed by the warmth radiating from her body, dangerously close to Rachel's back. "You don't have to do the dishes," came Quinn's soft, wine-soaked voice, so close to Rachel's ear that she felt the warm gust of Quinn's breath prickle the back of her neck. Quinn did not sound drunk, no, but Rachel certainly felt like _she_ was. "Finish your wine. I'll be with you in a second."

_You promise?_ Rachel thought, and she had to bite the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from saying it. She reached for a dish towel to dry her hands with, but with Quinn still lurking behind her, her back pressed against the older woman's front.

Rachel squirmed out from between Quinn and the sink to dry her hands. God, she must be radiating heat like a furnace. Her cheeks felt lit up by a blush. But Quinn looked unphased. She had an easy smile on her face as she rinsed the plates to slot them into the racks of the dishwasher.

"Get out of here," Quinn said playfully, flicking cool water on Rachel's face. "Sit in the living room. Put a record on."

Glad for something to do, Rachel took her wine glass from the cleared table and perused the records stored in milk crates in the shelves. Quinn's music tastes were varied, and Rachel was shocked to find the original 1968 record of the _Funny Girl _soundtrack.

She immediately put it on.

The scratching of the needle against the record never failed to send shivers up Rachel's spine. She wandered around the living room and stood in front of the wall of personal photos that appeared in a certain chronological order. The first frame began with a photograph of Quinn in a blue hospital gown. Her sweaty hair smoothed back and clung to her scalp. In her arms a pink, wrinkly baby. In the photo, Quinn looked exhausted, but her bright smile, the tenderness with which she held the newly-born Beth made Rachel's heart lurch in her chest.

On and on the photographs continued. Quinn in a red graduation gown, a two-year old Beth in her arms wearing the graduation cap. Beth's first day of school, her face in a pout, her eyes rimmed red, and a sheepish Quinn holding her hand. Beth's high school graduation photo, where she stood between Quinn and a man in an Air Force blue suit whom Rachel assumed to be Beth's dad. Both parents stood proud of their daughter. Like a happy family that Rachel could not touch.

"Sometimes I can't believe that photo was taken only a few months ago," Quinn appeared from the kitchen, the half-full bottle of the orange wine in one hand, her glass in the other. She stood dangerously close behind Rachel. Through the sliding floor-to-ceiling glass doors, the sun had long set. The ink-dark sky, lit by sporadic street lamps, and the low lighting of the living room, gave off a mood that Rachel was not sure she should allow to colour the scenery. They sat on the couch. Rachel endeavoured to sit on one end to give Quinn more than enough room to sit, and yet she sat so close to her that their thighs touched.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy having a baby when you were just a kid, but Beth is amazing and so are you," Rachel found herself saying. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and stared at the moonlight pooling on the steamer trunk of a coffee table – one that looked like it was salvaged from the ruins of the _Titanic_. "I already had a difficult time balancing my academics, my extracurriculars, and my social life in high school – I can't imagine doing it with a child."

Quinn laughed. "Well, I certainly didn't manage on my own."

"How _did _you manage? If you don't mind my asking."

Quinn's soft eyes focused on Rachel. For a while, she did not say anything. In that moment, Rachel did not experience her rough and tumble mix of emotions surrounding the older woman beside her. Not that her attraction towards Quinn receded into nothingness — that seemed impossible — but for the entire duration of Quinn's story, Rachel only _saw_ her. No projections, no fantasies. Just Quinn, beautiful as fire lit from within.

"I was a cheerleader in high school — captain of the Cheerios — don't laugh, our coach always said the cereal was based on _us_ and not the other way around — "

"How could that be, unless your coach is ancient?"

Quinn giggled and Rachel adored the way her lips melded against the rim of her wine glass, how she clasped it by the stem between thumb and forefinger. "No one knows how old coach Sue was. She got pregnant because she wanted a baby at some point after I graduated, so, who knows. Anyway, as you can imagine, every cheerleader had some sort of body image issue. One day, when I was not feeling… particularly attractive, I went to this guy, Puck. He's the school's slut, so I thought, if _he_ still finds me attractive then maybe I don't look _that_ bad. Which doesn't make sense. By definition, he didn't care who he slept or made out with, but that night, it was me."

The older woman sighed and swirled the wine in her glass, the burnished amber liquid caught the low warm light of the lamps that illuminated the living room. "So we made out. I let him feel me up," Quinn's voice hitched in her throat, and Rachel's heart pricked something fierce. "I told him, I'm not ready for sex, so he got me drunk on wine coolers."

Quinn must have read the horror in Rachel's eyes and nodded somberly. "He didn't use protection. It was probably in the top twenty of the worst first times for a teenager. Was _your_ first time any better?"

Rachel flushed. "With a boy, it was as about as you'd expect. But with a woman… Well, with my first girlfriend, it was definitely more satisfying."

The blonde woman smiled. "I love that for you." She licked her lips and continued her story.

"Being pregnant at sixteen, as you can imagine, was difficult. I got kicked out of the Cheerios, I was tired all the time. I managed to stay in honour roll though, and if it wasn't for the glee club, I wouldn't have known what to do. Then my dad found out so he kicked me out of the house, and I lived with Puck for a time until a friend of mine let me stay at her place. When I went into labour, we just finished our number for Regionals — which we lost, by the way."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault," Rachel said. "Even if it was, you were _pregnant_."

Quinn grinned. "Thanks, Rachel."

"At first I thought I would put her up for adoption. In the end, obviously I didn't. I don't have a good reason — it was a gut feeling, you know?" Quinn finished the wine in her glass but did not refill it. "I kept Beth. High school was difficult, but thanks to my mom divorcing my dad, she took me back in and took care of Beth while I went to school. Everyone from the glee club helped. Then I got into Yale."

Rachel whistled. "That's amazing."

Quinn chuckled and leaned her head against the curve of Rachel's shoulder. At first, she tensed. But it was, perhaps, the lateness of the hour, the emotional turn of the conversation, and the alcohol. So Rachel relaxed herself into Quinn's proximity.

"Yale was a bit more difficult to manage with a four-year old. I didn't have the time and the energy to make friends, let alone date, so I suppose that's where _that_ came from," Quinn said, referring to the earlier conversation in regards to who Beth was dating — if anyone at all. "But thankfully, Yale had childcare services for students. I graduated top of my class and had job offers coming out of college, so I took a starting editorial position in a home interior magazine to build my portfolio."

"And now I'm here," Quinn held out her hands and sighed.

"Does Beth still see her dad?" Rachel asked. She longed to run her fingers through the variegated shades of Quinn's blonde hair.

"From time to time," Quinn drawled through a yawn. "After I told Beth the whole story, she said she wanted to see him less. Something about absence making the heart grow fonder or something." Quinn offered Rachel a lazy smile, half-sleepy, half-drunk. "Thank you for listening, Rachel."

"Anytime, Quinn," Rachel chuckled. And she meant it.

* * *

Rachel helped the older woman stumble up the stairs and into her bedroom. The light in Beth's room no longer peeked out from the gaps of the door so they supposed she was asleep. Rachel nudged the double doors of the master bedroom open and Quinn entered, tripped, and fell face-first on the bed.

Quinn burst into a bout of giggling while Rachel helped Quinn settle at the center of the queen-sized bed and tugged the blankets over the blonde woman.

"You know, I don't think you're all that drunk," Rachel teased while she fluffed the pillows under Quinn's head. "Not five minutes ago you were explaining to me the history of Epicureanism."

"You got me," Quinn grinned. She did not look her age then – not that she was any more or any less attractive. The sparkle in her eye, the way her lips stretched in a bright grin, they all made Quinn appear childlike. "Good night, Rachel. See you in the morning."

"I look forward to it," Rachel said. The older woman chuckled. Blushing something fierce, she left the older woman and closed the double doors of the bedroom behind her.

In the guest bedroom of the Fabray house, Rachel changed into her nighttime clothing of a shirt and sweatpants. It was cold in the house, but not enough for her to start shivering. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then moisturized. Rachel settled in the bed and saw a text from Tina that asked her to call when she could.

"Hello?"

"Tina, I think I'm in love."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rachel heard distant voices and the sound of the phone clattering. "You're on speaker and Mike is here. Can you repeat what you just said for the class?"

"I'm in love," Rachel repeated. "With Beth's mom."

Her announcement was met with silence.

"It's only been a few hours since she left New York and she's already like this," Tina remarked.

"How big is the age gap?" Mike asked.

"Eleven years, but that's besides the point – "

"Okay, okay," came Tina's exhausted voice. "When you say you're in love, that used to mean, like, ten different things, so I'm not going to get worried just yet." Her voice changed gears to sound into something excitable. "What's she like? What's Beth's house like?"

Rachel spent an hour talking about Quinn, the house, and then Quinn again, in hushed tones because she had no idea how voice carried in the Fabray house and she would hate for Beth – or even, god forbid, Quinn – hear about how _beautiful_ and how _refined_ Rachel thought Quinn Fabray to be.

"Wow, sounds like you've got it bad," Tina said. "But be careful, okay? The way you talk about her, it makes it sound as if you're willing to risk it all."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rachel huffed. "I'm not much of a gambler."

They hung up after Tina and Mike talked about Lima. There was nothing new, of course, Mike chimed. Same old corn fields. Same old people. Oh, and I'd have you know, they painted the silo off Route One a deep firetruck red, rather than the classic brick red? Also, Finn said hi.

Rachel put her phone on the nightstand with a dreamy sigh. She thought about Quinn again – her strength, resilience, and grace under pressure as she faced a teen pregnancy made Rachel swoon, though really, did it change what she felt for the older woman other than admire her all the more? For a moment, she wondered what it would be like, had they attended the same school, were the same age. Would they have been friends? Rachel was confident that she would be as enamoured of Quinn in this alternate world she dreamt up as she was at that very moment.

In the late hour, she drifted asleep, thinking about the woman whose room was right next to hers.


	2. Chapter 2

In the frigid New Haven light, the sun had barely risen from the horizon when Rachel could not stay in bed any longer. Sleep left her as soon as it took her. By six-thirty she could not stay reclined any longer. Shivering, the tip of her nose cold, she brushed her teeth and washed her face then went downstairs.

She did not expect anyone to be awake, which would then give her time to figure out the coffee maker. But as soon as she was halfway down the stairs, the rich smell of roasted coffee beans and the gurgle of the steaming water assaulted her senses.

The kitchen light painted the cabinets with a warm splash of brightness. Before the stove stood Quinn. The sleeves of her loose, heather grey Yale Bulldogs sweater were rolled up past her elbows. She also wore the shortest shorts that allowed Rachel the unadulterated view and appreciation of Quinn's thighs, the length of her legs, the perfect curve of her calves.

She was in the middle of flipping pancakes. A five-tall stack of them wobbled on a sheet tray.

"Good morning," Quinn's low, warm voice was better than any first sip of coffee that Rachel could imagine. "How do you take your coffee? With milk and sugar?"

"No milk, please – unless it's vegan."

Rachel enjoyed the view from her seat on the dining table. It gave her the scenic landscape of the kitchen, with its pale, yolk cabinets amidst sapphire-blue tiling. The U-shaped counter partitioned it from the rest of the open concept of the first floor. Her elbow on the table, Rachel rested her cheek against her palm and thanked Quinn when she brought her a cup of freshly-brewed coffee, with wisps of steam curling over the lip of the cup.

"Did you sleep well? I don't remember what time we got to bed."

"It was pretty late – eleven p.m., I believe. And it's not anyone's fault, really, but I rarely sleep well during the first few nights at a new place. My body just knows, I guess."

Quinn flipped a pancake onto the tray and poured out another round of the batter against the surface of the hissing griddle. "When I have to travel, I have to bring my bamboo pillow with me or else forget it – I won't be able to sleep. Maybe you should get a bamboo pillow for yourself as well."

Maybe it was Quinn's motherly instinct, but the fact that they met not twenty-four hours ago and already she showed concern for Rachel's sleeping habits made the younger woman warm all over — warm from Quinn's concern.

"I'll look into it," Rachel answered with a smile.

"Good. Any plans for today?"

Rachel sipped her coffee and hummed in delight, which was apparent, it seemed, that Quinn looked proud. Beth took that moment to arrive downstairs. She kissed her mom on the cheek and sat beside Rachel. "No plans. But it's okay – I really don't need to be catered to or anything."

Quinn hummed and placed an empty plate and the stack of pancakes in front of Rachel, along with a bottle of maple syrup. "Yale has a series of galleries and exhibits open to the public, if you're interested. I can get you in for free since I'm an alumni."

"No offense, mom, but Yale has weird exhibits," Beth said. She took three pancakes and slathered them in butter and drenched the pile with maple syrup while both Rachel and Quinn eyed her with mild horror and amusement. "They have a brain library with real brains. In jars," she told Rachel.

"That's not _all_ Yale has."

"Yeah, they also have a surgery and tumours exhibit."

Quinn huffed. "Yale Architecture has nice galleries, if Rachel is into that sort of thing."

Both blondes turned on Rachel. Sharp hazel eyes focused on her, expecting an answer. She brought her coffee to her lips and swallowed. "Well, I don't know anything about architecture so I don't know if I'd be able to appreciate it to its full extent."

At this, Quinn brightened. "I can teach you."

"Mom, Rachel's only here for a month, not four years."

Rachel bit her lip. She could only _wish_.

* * *

In the end, Rachel did not sightsee on her first day at New Haven. Instead, she and Beth spent a few hours hanging out. In the privacy of Beth's bedroom, they gossiped about their professors – and talked about girls.

As the rest of the week passed, the three of them formed a habit. Usually, Quinn or Rachel woke up first – which was good since they were the only ones who knew how to operate the coffee maker. More often than not, Rachel strove to wake up earlier than Quinn because there was something so… heart-rending at the sight of the older woman with her mussed blonde hair, her half-closed eyelids, the sleepy look on her face. The way she would slowly smile like the sun rising when she saw Rachel made the dark-haired girl feel incandescent. As if she had done something greater than simply put the coffee on.

When Rachel woke up on a bright Wednesday morning, she realized that she just turned twenty-four. She read and responded to her dads' happy birthday email and accepted the money they transferred her. She thanked those who greeted her via text, grateful that she did not have a Facebook when this time of the year rolled around. There was something exhausting about receiving birthday wishes from people there. With the automated reminders, Rachel would rather not receive a birthday wish at all.

She tiptoed downstairs and proceeded to make breakfast. The coffee was made. The full carafe sat on the hot plate, kept warm. At the sound of footsteps, Rachel looked up and stifled the urge to sing to herself, happy birthday to_ me_.

Quinn yawned when she stepped off the stair landing wearing only a silk-white dress shirt and, to Rachel's panic, not much else. Quinn stretched her arms over her head. Her shirt rode up and Rachel caught a glimpse of Quinn's lace panties that contrasted against the marble of Quinn's skin. At least she had the foresight not to keep grating the sweet potato in her hand lest she went on to grate her finger down to bloody nubs. Rachel looked away and stared at the growing pile of orange strands in the bowl.

"Thank you for always making coffee," Quinn said with a sleepy smile.

"Excuse me one second," Quinn came up behind Rachel to reach into the cabinet above where the coffee mugs were. Rachel, once more, was pinned against the counter by Quinn's body, the older woman's hand on her hip. Really, with every day that passed, Rachel was so sure she would lose her head, delirious as she was with desire for her.

And every day, Rachel had to remind herself that this was her _friend's_ mom.

Quinn retrieved her mug and filled it with coffee. Rachel, her face hot, began to cook breakfast. When Beth arrived downstairs, Quinn kissed the top of her head. "I have to go downtown today – I have a bunch of meetings. Will you two be alright?"

"You should've said that earlier – I'm visiting my old high school today!" Beth exclaimed.

"I'll be fine alone," Rachel said. "I promise – I have plenty to do. I was thinking of starting to arrange the music for the show choir competition today anyway."

The two blondes looked at each other, and then at Rachel. "If you're sure," Quinn said cautiously. "But I'll leave you my business card with my contact info, just in case."

* * *

Rachel bade Quinn and Beth goodbye from the front porch. She watched Quinn's vehicle disappear down the street before retreating back into the house, making sure to lock the front door as she did. It felt eerie to be alone in a house that was not her own. Hell, she could do anything and no one would know. She could raid Quinn's underwear drawer if she wanted – but she _wouldn't_, for the record – or look through their family albums. But Rachel liked to think she was not a creep, so she grabbed her sheet music and parked herself in front of the piano to begin the song arrangements for the upcoming glee club competition.

It took her a few hours but she managed to finish the arrangement in a decent transition in between songs – she would have to consult Tina, who had classical music training growing up – with a balance of lines for each member of the club. For the duet, she thought about assigning it to Beth and Marley, just for fun, and maybe to finally goad the young blonde into asking the club vice-president out on a date.

It was eleven-thirty when she finished. Rachel was not hungry yet, but she also did not know what else to do.

She reached into her pocket and fished out the elegantly-designed business card Quinn gave her. It had her office's address, her business phone number, and her email.

How creepy would it be if she visited Quinn in her workplace?

Hopefully not very, because by the time Rachel asked herself those questions, her Uber was already waiting for her in the driveway.

Downtown New Haven certainly gave off a different vibe than, say, Lower Manhattan. It bustled, sure, but there was more greenery, more parks, and with the squat Yale buildings, it felt less claustrophobic. The structures of the building had a more historical atmosphere, though every now and then, modern glass buildings sat interspersed among brick and mortar structures.

The Uber dropped her off in front of an archaic-looking building with glass-and-gold revolving doors. Sharply-dressed office staff milled around inside, in front of the reception, and around the plush couches that likely served as a waiting area. Rachel stepped out of the car and made her way through the front door.

"I'm here to see a Miss Quinn Fabray."

The receptionist looked up. "Sixth floor. The elevators are to your left."

She entered an empty elevator and rode it alone to the sixth floor. It opened into a hallway, and as she walked into the office proper, it shocked her that the office was dead quiet, it seemed. People in their cubicles typed away, so only the clattering of fingers on keyboards broke the silence. People wore headphones. Every so often, a phone would ring.

"Who are you looking for?" A young man approached Rachel. An intern, judging from the tray of coffee in his hands.

"Quinn Fabray, please."

"She's in a meeting right now, but if you'd follow me, I can take you somewhere you can wait for her."

Rachel tailed the intern deeper into the recesses of the office. The conference room had glassed windows so that anyone could see what was being discussed, but unless the doors opened, no one could hear anything being said.

"You can wait here," the intern pointed at a series of club chairs positioned along a half-wall, book-ended by two flourishing philodendrons in massive terra cotta pots. Rachel thanked the intern who then pulled the door to the conference room open. From where she sat, Rachel could see Quinn – her hair up in a ponytail, errant blonde locks having escaped her hair tie. The image projected onto the screen was one of those modern chairs with stilt legs made out of brass.

Quinn addressed the intern, possibly to thank him for the coffee. The intern's ears turned red, and he hastily mentioned something. That was when Quinn glanced out and saw Rachel who offered a sheepish smile and a wave. The blonde smiled, held up a finger, and mouthed, 'one moment'. When the intern left the conference room, Rachel heard fragments of Quinn's voice.

" – these garbage modern chairs would collapse if you don't – "

"She said she'll be with you in a moment," the intern managed to gasp out. "But man, isn't she so hot?"

In that room full of white men, with their similar haircuts, their similar beards, and even perhaps their similar tastes in everything else, Quinn was one of a kind. Rachel was content to sit there and watch her all day, but after about ten more minutes where Quinn's stern features did not seem to change, she called for an end to the meeting. The white dudes filtered out of the conference room one by one, with Quinn taking up the rear.

As she stepped out of the room, her expression softened as she unravelled her ponytail and shook out her hair. "Hi, thanks for waiting. What are you doing here?"

"I thought we could get lunch together," Rachel said.

"Great idea – I can use a break. Let me grab my coat."

They found a near-empty café that sold pressed sandwiches with crunchy crusts, bountiful side dishes, and delicious coffee. They took a table by the bay windows, and in the middle of that quiet café, with the certain slant of the cold, New Haven light pouring through the window, Rachel admired the way Quinn's hair and her hazel eyes caught that light. How it illuminated her.

And when Quinn caught Rachel's eye and she smiled? What else could Rachel be but a goner?

"Do I have mustard on my face?" Quinn laughed. "You're looking at me funny."

Rachel shook her head. "Sorry, I was just spacing out."

"You don't like your sandwich? I thought the promise of microgreens sounded pretty appetizing."

Could Rachel say that no, the reason she was spaced out was not because of her sandwich but rather – she was in the midst of picturing tomorrows with Quinn? A whole multitude of them. She wanted to see how Quinn looked in the winter light, the spring light, the summer light, the autumn light.

Was she getting ahead of herself? Definitely. And what about it?

It was not like she was ready to settle. After, to want love does not mean settling. From the very first moment Rachel saw Quinn in the midst of the bustle of New Haven's Union Station, she knew by intuition alone that this woman would be capable of igniting feelings in Rachel that would make any emotionally-open person sing. And now, eating lunch with her in a city unfamiliar to Rachel, she was confident that she was halfway in love with the woman who sat across from her.

Still, Rachel's philosophy was: if it quacks like a duck, it must be a duck, so too, must love. If it left her burning in the after hours with an ache in her chest and hands she longed to be filled with Quinn's, then it must be love.

As far as birthdays went, Rachel thought, it was tame. She turned twenty-four and all she got to show for it was a flame that lapped at her heart. And at least the view was nice.

Quinn's soft, gentle voice removed the fog of Rachel's thoughts. "You know, since you're downtown, you might as well look around. I have to get back to the office but if you come by at four, I can drive us home."

They finished eating and parted ways. Rachel stood in the middle of the sidewalk and watched Quinn's retreating form.

Rachel walked the main streets of downtown New Haven, though mostly she visited bookstores and music shops just for something to do. With Yale being closed for the winter break, the streets, the school's quad, and the stores were decidedly less busy. While window-shopping, she chanced upon a gift that felt casual and playful enough for Quinn to open with Beth around. It was a mug. For Beth, Rachel found a used book that she planned on annotating for the girl's studies in the coming term.

She could have easily taken an Uber back to the Fabray house – it would have been faster, rather than having to while away the hours until Quinn finished work – but she also wanted to be alone with Quinn again.

God, she felt like she was such a teenager, conniving up ways to be alone with the woman she held feelings for.

Deciding to just wait in the lounge of Quinn's office building, she was surprised that ten minutes before four o'clock, the blonde emerged from the elevators. She made small talk with the receptionists, caught sight of Rachel, and flashed her a smile.

"Did you wait long?" Quinn asked while she rummaged through her purse for her keys.

She wanted to say, 'for you I am willing to wait hours just for a few minutes to be alone with you.' She wanted to say, 'I don't know how long I waited since I now measure time by the way my heart races when you're around.' Those were what she wanted to say, in her heart, but instead what came out of her was, "not at all," Rachel said while she followed Quinn to her car.

* * *

Beth looked shocked when Quinn and Rachel entered the Fabray house one after the other. "I was wondering where you were," she told Rachel from her seat on the couch.

"I went downtown! Took an Uber and everything," Rachel said whilst helping Quinn out of her coat. The older blonde looked mildly shocked, but still mouthed a soft 'thank you' before heading to the living room.

"And mom happened to see you walking?"

"No, we had lunch," Quinn kissed the top of Beth's head. "How was your high school visit?"

As Beth regaled to her mom stories of people whose names were unfamiliar to Rachel, she hung up Quinn's coat and her own. She took a seat on the couch across from Beth while Quinn walked around the living room, straightening stacks of magazines and fluffing up throw pillows. She approached the piano and Rachel remembered that she left her music notes there to come back to. She opened her mouth to apologize for leaving a mess but stopped short when Quinn smoothed her dress and sat on the piano bench.

The older woman had a look of concentration on her features. She played the melody of one of the songs – a mashup of "Halo" and "Walking on Sunshine". Under the hands of someone else, Rachel could hear the off note that did not fit as Quinn played it.

"You didn't mention your mom played the piano," muttered Rachel.

"What can I say? Mom is talented."

Quinn searched for a pencil and made a mark on the music sheets before her, then played the song again. This time, it was perfect.

She blinked, as if in a trance, then turned to Rachel. "Oh, I'm sorry – I changed something before I even asked."

"It's okay, I couldn't figure it out when I was mashing it up. Thank you for your help," Rachel approached the piano to look over Quinn's notation. The older woman explained the theory behind the change, and Rachel nodded in understanding. "Now that you explain it like that, that was pretty simple."

Quinn smiled and from Rachel's proximity to the woman, she could smell her perfume, the scent of her grapefruit lotion as it emanated from her body. "Glad I could help."

She then excused herself, citing exhaustion from work. Both Rachel and Beth watched her go – Rachel, staring far longer than her friend, who eyed her with amusement.

"So, how was lunch?"

"She's – great. The food was great. Not as overpriced as brunch in Brooklyn. I visited your mom at work too, and..."

"Hey, don't tell me you have a crush on my mom!" Beth chucked a throw pillow at Rachel's direction, and she caught it. "You _did_ mention you like older women so she might just be your type."

Rachel laughed it off. "Who knows," she said, hoping that she sounded careless enough, that her feelings, her longing for the blonde woman upstairs was not apparent. "I remember you mentioned that you wanted her to go on a date or something. What's up with that?"

"I don't want her to be lonely, that's all," Beth said while she looked up at the ceiling. "When I was growing up, I know she didn't go on dates much to take care of me and spend time with me. And I'm sure it wasn't because she didn't get offers – "

"Yeah, because she's beautiful."

"Right? She's gorgeous. She didn't date because of _me_, and, I don't know, I guess I feel bad."

Rachel sat on the couch beside Beth and patted her shoulder. "I'm sure your mom will find someone." She said, omitting the lurking hope that the person Quinn would find be her.

* * *

`With every moment spent in Quinn's company, Rachel grew to be unsure what her feelings were, precisely. This might just be a crush, but Rachel, ever looking ahead, wanted to call it in shorthand, love. And in her dubbing it as love, does it then _become_ love? It was exhausting to figure out when all she wanted was to enjoy every painful, aching minute of it. And she hoped that Quinn did not notice that she turned Rachel's head at every instance, that Rachel would straighten in alertness whenever she heard the padding of her slippered feet against the floor.

But what always drove Rachel to the brink of the precipice of her feelings was whenever Quinn would make quips in response to simple observations Rachel made.

On another morning when Rachel woke up before Quinn, she was in the kitchen eating cereal from a blue and white bowl. Coffee sat warm in the carafe. A cold front crept from Vermont and New Hampshire that morning so Rachel was bundled in long sleeves and sweatpants. Down stepped Quinn wearing – to Rachel's alarm – a white button-down shirt.

Like something straight out of Rachel's fantasy.

"Good morning. Aren't your legs cold?" Rachel asked. Her eyes were undoubtedly trained on the shapely legs of the older woman. Her button-down shirt scarcely reached halfway past her thighs.

"A little bit. Why, would you like to warm them?" Quinn grinned.

Whatever this was – may it be flirting, teasing, or just an outright suggestion, Rachel had no means of reacting without betraying her desire. That yes, _yes, yes,_ she would love to warm those thighs with her eyes, her hands, her mouth —

Instead, all that came out of her was a sputter. Cashew milk dribbled out of her mouth as she coughed.

"Maybe you should put on pants," Rachel stammered. Heat rose to her face and she felt immediately warm all over her body.

Quinn threw her head back in a laugh. "Sorry, I'm teasing."

Later that same afternoon Rachel discussed the song arrangements in the glee club group phone call with Beth right beside her. She glanced at the clock and rose to head to the kitchen.

"I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?" She asked Beth while she filled the kettle.

"No, but thanks," Beth said. She was still alarmed over the fact that she would have to perform a duet, and on top of that, with the girl she _liked_. At least Marley seemed excited, which was a good sign.

"Maybe I'll bring Quinn one, what do you think?"

Beth glanced at Rachel and chuckled. "Yeah, why not. She likes – "

" — green tea, right?"

The younger blonde chuckled. "Of course you'd know that."

Rachel set down two mugs and tossed the tea bags into each mug, then filled it with the newly-boiled water. Once the three minutes were over, Rachel fished out the tea bags and tossed them in the composter. She took the mug she prepared for Quinn and ascended the stairs.

As Quinn promised when she gave Rachel the tour to the house, the door to her office remained ajar. Rachel poked her head through the doorway and saw Quinn hard at work behind her computer screen. The sight of her wearing round, tortoiseshell glasses stopped Rachel in her tracks.

A look of concentration adorned Quinn's features. She held a Blackwing pencil between her lips. It seemed that the blonde did not hear her coming, so she had yet to look up and notice her. She knocked and Quinn looked up.

"Hey, come in," she straightened her back and cleared out the printouts of room blueprints, chair diagrams, and colour palette swatches that littered her desk.

"I haven't seen you in a few hours so I bought you a tea," Rachel set the porcelain mug on top of a coaster.

"You missed me that much?"

"Maybe a little."

Quinn laughed as she brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. "Mmmm, perfect."

Rachel lingered in Quinn's office while she typed away, admiring the wall to wall shelves filled with books and magazines. The thick brocade of winter curtains half-covered the window behind Quinn so that the sunlight did not strike the spines of the books. This prevented their discolouration and kept them from fading.

Quinn rubbed her shoulders and sighed. "I need to go see my chiropractor, but he's off on vacation. He has the right idea, going to Puerto Rico during these winter months." She rotated her neck and winced.

"Would you like a massage?" Rachel blurted before she could censor herself.

The older woman smiled a lazy smile over the rim of her tea mug. "I wouldn't say no to that."

All Rachel wanted was to alleviate Quinn's pain – it was just an added boon that she got to touch the curve of her neck and her shoulder. As she stood behind Quinn, with her blonde hair swept aside to expose the column of her neck, the shapely shell of her ear with the glint of her pearl earrings, Rachel swallowed hard.

She rubbed her hands together to warm them and grasped Quinn's shoulder where it met her neck. Rachel kneaded the stiff muscles she found there, and Quinn's head lolled. She made soft grunts of pain and pleasure, which left Rachel praying that she kept her sanity intact.

"Rachel," came Beth's voice from down the hallway. "You left your tea downstairs — "

The dark-haired woman released Quinn's neck as if scalded when Beth appeared by the office's doorway. "Oh, there you are. Your tea got cold."

"That's fine," Rachel conceded. She stepped away from Quinn's desk. Heat radiated from her face. Her blush was _obvious_, she was sure of it. Rachel glanced back towards Quinn and her breath caught at the look on the older woman's face.

Her eyes were half-lidded, as if she was sleepy. Her elbows rested on the desk, and with her hands clasped together, she rested her chin against the back of her palms. Her brow was raised. An easy smile on her lips.

* * *

Rachel learned pretty early on that Quinn enjoyed a post-dinner glass of wine, and she especially enjoyed it more if Rachel joined her. They sat on the living room couch while Quinn lazily stroked Rachel's shoulder as she discussed performance theory with Beth.

"Right, okay, you're perfectly right but the Stanislavski system — "

Beth held up a hand. "Rachel, I'm not there yet. We're talking about Aristotle _right now_ so don't pull that grad student card because it's unfair."

Quinn laughed and Rachel turned towards the sound, so invigorating, so much like springtime. "Are we boring you?" She asked.

"No, no. I enjoy it." Quinn's hand rested on the nape of Rachel's neck, and this contact, this proximity, was enough to make Rachel melt into the abyss of Quinn's touch. Her eyes sparkled in the low light of the living room lamps. "But now I must excuse myself. I have to do some work."

"Mom, it's nine at night," Beth said. "Don't you ever take a break?"

"Hey, I take plenty of breaks. Just, not right now because I have deadlines. I have to get the spring issue copy ready by the end of this week and I'm nowhere close to finishing. Plus whenever I go into the office, I get inundated by meetings so I don't get anything done for the new issue."

Beth raised her hands to concede. "Okay. Have fun."

Quinn chuckled and rose. Her touch lingered on Rachel's nape and dragged along her shoulder. Rachel resisted the urge to shiver, and she watched Quinn disappear up the stairs. It was all so subtle, her flirtations, but Rachel did not believe for one second that the older woman had _no idea whatsoever_ what she was doing to her. Rachel sighed to release the tension Quinn left coiled inside her. If this was a light caress did to Rachel, imagine if she did something _more_.

Beth cleared her throat and Rachel jerked to face her friend. "What?"

"Nothing," the younger blonde grinned. "Hey, can we practice the songs for our competition? I was hoping you could give me some pointers for breath control."

"I think what you need to practice is how not to get distracted when you're singing with Marley," Rachel teased. "But sure, I'll help."

After a quick practice session, Rachel excused herself to go to bed since it neared midnight. Beth nodded, thanked her for her help, but remained in front of the piano, reading the sheet music. As Rachel climbed the stairs, a shaft of light emanated from Quinn's half-opened office door. She peeked into the office and saw that Quinn still sat on her office chair behind her desk. She had her head down on her arms that rested on top of a pile of magazines. She was asleep.

Rachel approached slowly so as not to wake her. She touched her shoulder and gently shook it, but Quinn hardly stirred. Helpless, Rachel leaned close to Quinn's ear and uttered her name.

Quinn tilted her face towards the sound of Rachel's voice and opened her eyes. Her mouth, her pouty lips, the hint of green and gold in her hazel eyes — Rachel could see them all in the lamplight of the office. All she needed to do was lean in — a few inches more — and she would take Quinn's lips in a kiss.

But she was nothing but chivalrous. She would not dare take advantage of her half-asleep state. Rachel retreated. "It's late — you should get to bed."

"Hmmmm," the older woman groaned. "I was just resting my eyes."

Her voice had a keen to it, a whininess that Rachel found endearing. "Well, you should rest them some more. Horizontally. On your bed."

Quinn giggled and she sat up with a wince. She held up her arms like a child wanting to get carried, but Rachel only looked at her with a raised brow. "At least help me up," Quinn said with a chuckle.

Rachel took both of Quinn's hands and she heaved herself to stand. She wrapped an arm around Rachel's shoulders and leaned against her — not so heavily so as to stumble, but _enough_. Enough to press her warm, pliant body against Rachel's, enough for her to be immersed in Quinn's floral scent, like drowning in it. Inescapable.

With her arm looped around Quinn's waist, Rachel assisted her out of her office. She shut the lights and together they made slow progress down the hall to Quinn's bedroom. Rachel felt the deja vu that accompanied the gesture of nudging the double doors open with her foot. She tugged the duvet that covered the bed and eased Quinn onto the cool white sheets. The blonde groaned dramatically and lay on her back. Rachel threw the blankets over her shivering body.

"Thank you, Rachel," Quinn offered Rachel a sleepy smile. The sight of her in that large cozy bed with only her head peeking out from the duvet, set Rachel's heart aflame — though really, it was anything Quinn did, even Quinn _herself_ that ignited Rachel's passions like no other. It bordered on ridiculous, how Rachel magnified every single thing, no matter how minor, to the point that she was breathless nearly all the time.

Unable to resist, Rachel swept back the hair that shielded Quinn's features. She tilted her chin up, as if expecting something. Her eyes were bright.

"Anytime, Quinn. Good night."

Rachel made a hasty exit, though she felt the woman's eyes and how it followed her. She closed the double doors and sighed.

In the cold of the guest bedroom, Rachel rummaged through her belongings so she could undergo her nightly routine. Once returned, she settled into bed with another deep sigh. It had been a while, almost two years since her last serious relationship, and perhaps a year since she had a crush as bad as this one. This longing, this attraction left her exhausted, with her churning gut filled to the brim with butterflies that longed to get out.

Maybe she needed to sing about it.

It had been a few days, and still she struggled to sleep on the guest bed. As she shifted again to find a position that she could stay in, her phone buzzed.

"Hey! How's it going?" Mike asked from the other end of the line. "Also, I accidentally called you, but it's cool that you answered."

"I can't sleep," Rachel whined. "I feel like I'm going to explode."

"Are you in your feelings again?" He teased. "How are you handling your crush on Beth's mom? Oh wait, you said you were _in love_."

"And what about it? You sound so sceptical, like you don't know me."

"Rach, you've known the lady for… ten days?"

"Twelve days, but who's counting? And listen, I'm manifesting the feeling, okay? Mike, she's so beautiful, and funny, and smart… Not to mention – pardon my language – hot as hell."

"Yeah, yeah, you've said all those things about her already. Take a pic! Tina wants to see what she looks like, too."

"Go on Beth's Facebook or something! I'm not about to take a sneaky creep photo of the woman I'm in love with for your male gaze!"

Mike laughed and Rachel held the phone away from her ear for a few seconds. "You gonna tell her you're into her?"

"What's the point?" Rachel sighed. "After this month, I might never see her again."

"All the more reason to tell her!"

"I will _not_! This is Beth's mom, not some random older woman on the street. I don't want to impose this burden of my feelings on her. She deserves more than that."

"Where's Beth's dad anyway? You've never mentioned him once."

"This is borderline gossiping, you know. He's not in the picture, as far as I can tell. They were never married or anything."

"Yet you told me about it anyway," Mike retorted. "I gotta go. Let me know if anything happens. Good night!"

Rachel bade her friend good night and hung up. She buried her phone under her bed and tried to get at least _some_ amount of sleep without succumbing in the universe she created in her mind where she and Quinn were together and in love.


	3. Chapter 3

I hope this update finds you well, dear reader, if you're under a self-imposed quarantine or a forced one. Or if you're like me where your workplace is still open, hang in there.

* * *

On the shortest day of the year, Rachel and Quinn kissed for the first time.

Late at night, in the guest bedroom, with the bedside lamp illuminating the pages of her Bertolt Brecht book, Rachel leaned against the headboard with a red pencil tucked above her puckered upper lip. Her book was beat-up, used, and she had it since her second year in NYADA. It was, after all, a required reading for any performer interested in theatre, theoretical or otherwise.

She heard a soft tap against the door and it opened a crack to reveal Quinn in an olive-green cardigan wrapped tightly around her shivering frame. Her long, blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail. She wore leggings — it was pretty cold, and it was likely that her legs could not handle the chill in the air anymore, Rachel supposed.

"Can't sleep?"

"No. Is my light bothering you? I can turn it off."

Quinn shook her head and shivered. "I can't sleep either. Let's go get something warm to drink. Maybe that'll help."

She disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, expecting Rachel to follow. And, of course, Rachel would hate to disappoint.

They padded softly down the hall and down the stairs. Quinn turned the light on the range hood while she set a pot on the stove. The carton of cashew milk and a bottle of honey on the counter beside her.

"What were you reading?" Quinn asked while she poured the milk into the pot.

"A theory text on theatre," Rachel answered. She leaned back against the counter and watched the ghostly silhouette of Quinn's body backlit by the warm orange light of the range hood. "How to develop the aesthetic of acting. I was hoping it would bore me enough to get me to sleep."

"I don't think it worked. You seemed pretty riveted when I walked in on you," Quinn glanced back at Rachel, and her profile, her half-smile, the glow of her blonde hair that framed her face… Rachel could not look away.

Quinn returned her attention to the steaming pot before her, and she happened to glance outside the window. "Oh, it's snowing!"

That would explain the hush that seemed to envelop the house and beyond. The rush of tires on the street were muffled by the dry squeak of snow against rubber and asphalt. The beeping noise of salt trucks reversing. Quinn poured the warmed milk into two mugs, handed one to Rachel, and walked into the living room. Rachel followed.

They sat beside each other on the couch that overlooked the backyard. For a while, only the sound of their breathing and their sipping accompanied the sight of falling snow. In thick clumps, it piled and piled all over Quinn's backyard until the barest hint of dried grass disappeared under the blanket of white.

"Nothing quite like the muffle of the snow to remind you of how lonely you are, right?"

Rachel licked her bottom lip. "I agree."

Quinn looked at her. "No girl — or boy — to return to once winter break ends?"

She downed the rest of her drink. "No."

"You know, contrary to what I might make Beth believe, I _am_ lonely. I miss being intimate with another person," Quinn stared at the bottom of her cup while she swirled the liquid that remained inside. Her nails tapped a staccato rhythm against the porcelain. "But of course, I don't want Beth to know. Goodness knows she worries about me too much."

Quinn finished the rest of her drink and set the cup on the coffee table. She looked at Rachel, and in her eyes she could see the blaze of fire that Rachel would willingly walk into, despite the threat of being consumed, despite the promise of, if she was not careful, ruin. She could easily dissolve into a pile of ash, or be tempered by the fire Quinn inspired in her and come out stronger for it, changed.

Which one would it be, Rachel wondered.

"I see the way you look at me when you think I don't notice," Quinn shifted closer towards Rachel. The distance that separated them on that couch yawned, but with each movement that inched Quinn closer and closer to Rachel, the younger woman's heart raced with hope and with pining. "And I'd like to think I'm still adept at reading signs… Do you like me, Rachel?"

She swallowed hard and distantly wished that she reserved some milk with which to dampen her lips. "I…"

"It's okay — you can be honest," Quinn touched Rachel's shoulder and the tense coil of her heart unravelled.

"I do. I like you. From the moment I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I have ever met, but… You're also smart, and funny... and," Rachel took a deep breath. "I admire you as a person, above all else, but I am also just a human being."

The curl of Quinn's smile sent her heart rate through the roof. Her body, so close now that the scent of her skin was all Rachel could think of. The only source of light in the room were the dull brightness of the streetlamps outside and despite its murky orange vibrance, Quinn glowed regardless.

She felt brazen now. She locked eyes with Quinn. "If I can somehow assuage your loneliness for the duration of my being here, then..."

The older woman did not allow her to finish her thought.

She grasped the back of Rachel's neck and their lips met. They kissed while snow fell outside and muffled the world so that the only thing that existed was the beating of Rachel's heart, the warmth that threatened to consume her body from within – sharp, bright, and hot – and the softness of Quinn's lips. The older woman hiked her leg over Rachel's thighs so she could sit on her lap. Gasping at the suddenness of her proximity, Rachel had no idea what to do with her hands.

Quinn caught her palms and guided them to her hips. Then she lowered her mouth to hers once more.

It was late, nearly three in the morning when they climbed the stairs and went to bed — separately. Quinn's husky 'good night' sent a bolt of hot lightning down the length of Rachel's spine as she bade her the same. She reclined on the bed, her eyelids heavy. Her lips stung from kissing Quinn.

Rachel fell asleep on the longest night of the year with a lovedrunk smile, the taste of Quinn's lips, her skin, and the flutter of her pulse lingering on the surface of Rachel's tongue.

* * *

The days that led up to Christmas were hectic. After Beth and Quinn returned home from Sunday mass, they also hauled in a six foot Christmas tree into the house with them. It caused quite the ruckus while Beth and Quinn yelled at each other and wrestled with the tree to get it propped into its stand. Beth cut off the twine that kept the tree's needles together and proceeded to fluff the tree into its desirable conical shape.

Quinn did not bother to shrug off her coat. Beth made a beeline for the kitchen to start cooking lunch so she turned to Rachel. "Hi," Quinn said, breathless from the cold winter air and the exertion of carrying the tree into the house. Her cheeks were a bright pink, her eyes shone. "Do you mind helping me bring in some Christmas decorations from the garage?"

"Of course," Rachel said, already halfway to putting her winter coat on. She followed Quinn through the door that connected the house to the garage. Rachel closed the door behind her to prevent the frigid air from entering the warmth of the house. She followed Quinn who stood before a shelf of boxes, shifting them around to reach past the box of Halloween decorations for the Christmas ones.

Content as she was to simply admire Quinn, now that she knew what it was like to kiss her, the air around the blonde rippled with Rachel's desire. She was so distracted by the flashback of Quinn on her lap that it took her by surprise when the older woman spun to face her, grasped the front of her coat, and pulled her in for a kiss.

Quinn's cold lips parted so Rachel could feel the caress of her warm tongue. A gasp escaped Rachel. And while Quinn's fingertips were cold against Rachel's nape, the blaze that it invoked in Rachel was pure, unadulterated longing, a rising earthquake in the pit of her stomach.

Quinn rested her forehead against Rachel's and sighed. "Sorry – I couldn't concentrate during mass because all I could think about was kissing you." She stroked Rachel's jaw. Her teeth sank against the flesh of her lower lip.

"I don't mind, though I wonder what Jesus would have to say about that."

With her hands resting on the swell of Quinn's hips and under her winter coat, Rachel pulled her closer to her own body and pressed her mouth to hers again. The palpable way Quinn melted into her embrace, how her arms wrapped around Rachel's neck, the smile that took shape on her mouth all served to fuel Rachel's desire.

The clatter and footsteps from within the house tore them from the bubble a good kiss often created. Rachel stepped back, breathless and with her heart racing. Quinn sighed and released her hold on Rachel.

They each carried a box of decorations back into the house, just as Beth washed her hands in the sink. "That took a while."

"We had to move around the boxes of Halloween decor," Quinn breezily replied. She set the boxes down on the coffee table, and Rachel followed suit.

"Also, grandma sent me an email," Beth said. "She said she's going to this railroad cruise thing? Who knows, but she mentioned having one of her stops be New Haven."

"Hmm," Quinn was distracted as she looked through the carton of decorations.

* * *

After the lunch Beth prepared, they took to decorating the house with Christmas ornaments. Rachel and Beth hung synthetic pine ropes to frame doorways adorned with bells and pine cones, while Quinn hung up Christmas stockings by the stair banisters. Rachel was surprised that there were three of them.

"Sorry, yours is an unmarked stocking," Quinn said when she caught Rachel's gaze.

"No – I'm actually surprised I have one at all," she admitted. "Thank you."

"I'd hate for you to feel left out. You're already spending time away from your family. This is the least I can do."

The fact that Quinn said 'I' and not 'we' was not lost on Rachel.

* * *

Grocery-shopping with Quinn was something straight out of Rachel's many fantasies. The sheer domesticity of it. Walking down the aisles and perusing the shelves for something that would pique a lover's interest was something Rachel always dreamed of, and now that this fantasy came to life, it felt better than anything she ever imagined.

She pushed the cart while Quinn held the list of items Beth needed for the Christmas dinner that she planned. Rachel figured that it was because of the younger Fabray's obsession with that lady on YouTube with the Sontag stripe who liked to recreate candy bars and snacks into something gourmet that Beth endeavoured to cook an entire Christmas dinner by herself.

"I have no idea what a radicchio looks like," Quinn grumbled.

"It's some kind of purplish cabbage I think. Oh – here it is," Rachel wheeled the cart to the bin that held the cabbages and held up the purple and white radicchio. Quinn laughed and playfully rolled her eyes.

"I guess I should brace myself for when Beth comes to me and announces that she wants to leave NYADA and go to the Culinary Institute instead, huh?" Quinn said, as she bagged the vegetable and placed it in the cart.

They went around the grocery store, purchasing everything from Beth's list along with a few extras that Quinn bought on a whim, like a freshly-baked babka loaf and a carton of ice cream. She paid and Rachel carted the bags to the car while Quinn passed by the coffee shop to buy them both drinks, as a treat.

Sitting beside each other inside the cold vehicle with the fans set on maximum heat, Rachel and Quinn shivered, grateful for the warmth that emanated from the coffee cups. They remained in that parking lot while they waited for the traffic and bustle of pedestrians to clear somewhat.

"Shall we go? Is that everything?" Quinn asked while she clipped on her seatbelt.

"Not everything, no," Rachel found herself saying. When Quinn looked at her in confusion, Rachel, possessed by nothing but a spirit entirely her own, leaned over the console that separated their seats and caught Quinn's lips in a kiss.

When Rachel eased off the kiss, she saw the look of sparkling amusement in Quinn's eyes that finally her embarrassment, her sense of shame, managed to catch up to her. Her entire face burnt red and she stared at the dashboard.

"You are the cutest thing," Quinn said with a light laugh. She grasped the back of Rachel's neck and drew her in for yet another kiss.

* * *

Upon arrival at the Fabray house, with their arms loaded with groceries, Rachel and Quinn walked in on Beth with her phone held up in a video call.

"Oh – mom just walked in. Mom, it's aunt B and aunt S!"

Rachel set the groceries on the kitchen counter, as did Quinn. She approached her daughter and peered into the phone. "Hello, merry almost Christmas!"

Beth handed off the phone to her mom and from where she stood, Rachel heard a bout of insults from a Latina woman while Quinn merely laughed it off. Beth peered into the brown paper bags and grinned in delight. "Awesome, you guys got everything."

While the two of them stored the groceries in the fridge and in the pantry, Beth told Rachel about her aunts Brittany and Santana — Quinn's best friends since high school and Beth's effective godparents. Though they were unmarried at the time of her baptism, seeing as they were only sixteen.

"How did Quinn know they'd end up together then?" Rachel asked in surprise.

Beth shrugged. "Mom said they've always been in love — she doesn't remember a time when they weren't. She just knew, I guess."

Beth's aunts resided in Los Angeles where her aunt Brittany ran a dance studio. Her aunt Santana was a songwriter for some big name acts who claim to write their own songs — Beth had no idea for whom since Santana was contractually prohibited from mentioning their names.

Quinn walked into the kitchen and handed Beth her phone back while they finished putting away the groceries.

"Steve came by when you were out grocery-shopping. He's looking for you again," Beth told Quinn with a roll of her eyes. "I swear he gets annoying every time I see him."

"At least you get time away from him – I have to talk to him almost every week, less if I'm lucky. He's been more insistent since his soon-to-be-ex-wife signed the divorce papers."

"I know I keep nagging you to date someone mom, but _please_ never date Steve. I know you can do better than him."

Quinn laughed and glanced at Rachel. "You don't have to worry about me, sweetheart."

* * *

On Christmas morning, with yet another fresh bout of snow from the previous night, the Fabray women and Rachel congregated in the living room and around the Christmas tree, surrounded by presents. Rachel made sure to nestle her gifts for the two women in the pile before she went to bed last night.

Full from breakfast, Rachel was happy to sit beside Quinn while Beth rummaged through the presents. "Okay, first one," Beth's handed a heavy item wrapped in brown paper and tied with a gold ribbon to Rachel. "I was not sure what to get you because you don't seem to talk about material things a lot. But I was on eBay and well…"

It was a brass paper weight of Barbra Streisand. At the sight of it, Rachel burst into laughter. "Thank you, I love it. I'm going to put it on my Barbra memorabilia shelf at home."

And from Quinn, she received a bamboo pillow. "I wasn't sure if you're still having trouble sleeping but I thought to get you the pillow anyway, like we talked." She explained.

"Rachel has trouble sleeping?" Beth asked.

"You wouldn't notice because you're out like a light all the time," Quinn teased. "But yes, I always find Rachel awake in the odd hours." She looked at Rachel, and the younger woman had to look away.

She deemed it inappropriate to mention that lately, the reason why Rachel could not sleep was because she could not stop thinking about Quinn.

So instead, she grinned and hugged the pillow to her chest. "Thank you."

Next on the pile, Beth picked up Rachel's gift for her. She gleefully tore through the wrapping paper and held the book up. It was a copy of Brecht's _Notes on the Aesthetic of Theatre_, but Rachel also took the time to write her notes inside so that the book bulged with post-its and other scraps of paper. "Oh my goodness, Rachel. Thank you!" She lunged for her to hug her in a tight embrace.

From Quinn, Beth received a big, fat cheque of three thousand dollars. "It's from me, your aunts, and grandma," Quinn explained. "Don't spend it all in one place."

Finally, it was Quinn's turn. Beth handed a package wrapped in yellow and white tissue paper. "This one's from me, mom."

It was a glazed shallow bowl with crenellated edges, painted green and white. One side of it was misshapen. "I did this one-day pottery workshop in New York. It's wonky like that because I dropped it on my way to the kiln."

Quinn laughed and kissed Beth. "Thank you. I love it. I'm going to use it for my earrings."

When Beth handed Quinn Rachel's gift for her, the dark-haired woman bit back a smile as she watched Quinn reach into the paper bag. It was a mug, and it was worth more than the twenty bucks she paid to see the way Quinn's face lit up as she threw her head back in a laugh. "Oh my god, thank you, Rachel."

The mug read: I'm a hot-tea.

Beth looked at the mug and then to Rachel. She smirked.

"Don't forget to check your Christmas stockings too, okay?" Quinn said, though she looked mostly at Rachel who was in the midst of helping Beth clear the litter around the Christmas tree. Rachel glanced at Quinn, the stockings that hung on the banisters, then to Quinn again. The blonde wore an innocent smile that made Rachel nervous.

While Beth left to dump the recycling outside, Rachel reached into the unlabelled stocking designated as hers. She felt loose candies — judging from the shapes they were an assortment of chocolates, candy canes, and mini candy bars.

Rachel tensed when she felt something silky, the texture of lace…

She pulled her hand out and all the blood rushed to her head.

In her fist was a pair of red lace panties.

Rachel shot Quinn a look, and sure enough, the older woman wore a delighted smirk. She blew Rachel a kiss, mouthed 'later', and turned away from her just in time for Beth to return. Hurriedly, Rachel shoved the pair of panties into the pocket of her hoodie when the younger blonde asked her what types of candies she received.

* * *

It shocked everyone — Beth included — that Christmas dinner went without a hitch. Quinn would not stop singing Beth praises and moaning in visible delight over how the coffee crème brûlée turned out.

"If you ever decide to shift from theatre to culinary arts, you have my full support, sweetheart." Quinn chimed. She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and surveyed the table. "Shall we have more wine?" She asked Rachel.

Rachel shook her head. She was full and dazed. If anything, she needed to stop drinking wine. She needed to clear her head because she felt a certain imminence lingering at the end of her tongue, if she dared enough. "I'd rather have some tea. Would you like some? Beth?"

The younger blonde yawned and shook her head. "I'll stick to water, thanks." She said. She turned her attention on the flatscreen television tuned to _A Charlie Brown Christmas_. She sat on the sofa, all of her focus on the cartoon.

"I'll have some tea. So I can use the mug you gave me," Quinn said. Rachel nodded and headed to the walk-in pantry for the teabags. As she scanned the shelves in search for the box of green tea, she heard footsteps. Within a few seconds Rachel found herself trapped between the shelf full of assorted pasta and Quinn's body that radiated heat from all the food and all the wine consumed during dinner.

"You couldn't wait?" Rachel asked. Quinn swept her long brown locks aside and trailed a line of incendiary kisses along the length of her neck and shoulder.

"Mmmmm, you got me," Quinn grasped Rachel's hips so she would face her. Her half-lidded gaze and how she stared at Rachel's mouth sent the younger woman's pulse to flutter. "Just one quick kiss — don't want Beth to get suspicious."

"She's distracted, watching TV."

"Sure, but at some point I'm sure she'll wonder where we both are."

"Then hurry up and kiss me already."

Quinn giggled and grasped either side of Rachel's face. The way she kissed her so slowly that it allowed her the full sensation of her lips, how her teeth snagged against her bottom lip, all promised things to come. Rachel was surprised that her legs did not buckle. She clung to Quinn's waist and shivered.

"Better save some for later," Quinn husked softly.

Whatever would happen later, Rachel could only wait.

* * *

Rachel forced herself to focus on the book she had on her lap but all she could see in the periphery of her vision was Quinn's _gift_ – her panties. Quinn had been wearing a dress — did that mean she was not wearing anything underneath for the whole day? Rachel shook her head — the logistics were not important.

But were they _worn_? Rachel eyed the gusset of the fabric for any sign, any clue, any hint of previous dampness but immediately blushed and shook her head. Yet her curiosity threatened to consume her.

It was a nice reassurance that Quinn, in fact, found her sexually attractive. From what Rachel figured, Quinn had little by way of sexual experiences, and as far as she could tell, minimal experience with a woman. They had yet to talk about anything related to what was happening between them. And as much as Rachel longed for certainty, she also saw the appeal of allowing things to remain unclear. It was more Romantic that way.

The soft patter of footsteps, and the tap of knuckles against the door interrupted Rachel's inner thoughts. Quinn entered and pressed her back to the door. She had a coy smile on her lips that made Rachel nervous.

"I believe you have something of mine."

"You mean your panties that you put in my Christmas stocking?" Rachel asked. She closed her book and threw it to the floor. "I don't know if I should give it back. It was in _my _stocking, after all. It's now mine by rights."

Quinn laughed softly and she yanked the blanket off Rachel's lap to mount her. The bed dipped under her weight and Quinn's white silk shirt rode higher up her thighs. So close. So close and Rachel would know, once and for all, if Quinn wore _anything_ underneath.

"Then I believe it's only fair if I get something in exchange for my underwear," Quinn rested her forearms on Rachel's shoulders, her fingers laced behind Rachel's neck.

"What would you like?" Rachel asked, her heart lodged between her throat and her airways, thundered like a raincloud.

"Hmmm," and suddenly Quinn had the upper hand again, though Rachel hardly cared to complain. It was a position she was willing to be in – especially if it was the position to give Quinn anything her heart desired. "What about a kiss?"

"You can get those for free. Choose something else."

Quinn shifted on Rachel's lap to have their bodies closer together. Rachel's palms rested on her thighs. She opened her mouth to speak.

The sudden sound of footsteps and the door closing made Quinn tense. She let out a short squeak and leapt off Rachel's lap to burrow under the blanket. They could only breathe as they strained their ears, listened to the sound of Beth in the bathroom, the echo of running water against porcelain, and eventually, the bedroom door closing.

Even in the dim light, Quinn's face burned a bright red. "I feel like I'm a teenager again — sneaking around like this. Except I'm not hiding from my parents. I was hiding from my _daughter_."

Laughing, Rachel shifted so she reclined and was now face to face with Quinn. She turned off the bedside lamp to immerse them in darkness with only the streetlights to illuminate each other's faces. Outside, a snowstorm raged, but the coldness of the external world lay forgotten in favour of the warmth of their bodies in that spacious bed. "We don't have to do anything if you're uncomfortable," she assured her.

"That's the thing – I'm _so_ comfortable. Shockingly so. But I still don't want Beth to find out yet," Quinn sighed. "And I thought I should mention – I've never been with a woman before."

There went _that _assumption. "Does it bother you that I'm a woman?"

"Not one bit," Quinn assured Rachel. "I only mentioned it because I fear I won't be any good at it – at sex. In general. I don't have much experience, as a whole."

"I'm not really looking for a professional experience. As long as I get to have sex with _you_, that's all that matters." She paused when Quinn smirked and raised a brow. "I think that came out wrong. I just meant — we don't even have to have sex if you didn't want to — "

"It's okay, I know what you meant. But I'm relieved – I thought, considering how much older I am, it would make you hesitant."

"You're not _that_ old."

"Rachel," Quinn scoffed. "I'm eleven years older than you."

"Well if you think about it like that then yeah," Rachel conceded.

"How else would I think about it?"

For a minute, they were silent. Rachel took that time to admire Quinn's face some more. In the cold light of the winter moon, Quinn looked deep in thought. So, Rachel thought to distract her with a soft kiss to the cheek, and another to her forehead. The tension that kept Quinn's body taut slackened. She sank into the warmth of Rachel's arms. Her head rested against Rachel's biceps, her head tucked underneath the younger woman's chin.

"This is nice—I never realized I missed being held like this," Quinn murmured with a sigh.

Rachel held her closer. Hooked Quinn's leg over her hip to lessen the distance between them as much as possible. For a long while, they remained in that position, absorbing the warmth of the other.

Then came Quinn's warm, sleepy voice. "What were you like, growing up?"

"Are you sure you'd like to hear this for a bedtime story? It's a little… action-packed and depressing in some parts."

Quinn looked up at her. "I just want to know more about you."

"Okay," Rachel kissed Quinn's forehead. "I suppose it's fair, given that you told me the story of Beth." She cleared her throat and took a deep sigh. "My dads adopted me from a woman who had the same experience as you — she got pregnant at sixteen and my dads, conveniently, had been thinking about adopting a child. When I was born, my dads didn't spare any expense — they got me lessons for my every whim, cheered me on, made me believe that I was special and amazing, and that I could take on the world if I wanted to. But then, high school happened."

"Ouch. I know exactly what you mean."

"What was that saying? The nail that sticks out gets hammered down," Rachel said with a derisive chuckle. "I tried to be as well-rounded as I could, but I found theatre — or rather, theatre found me. I trained for theatre since sophomore year, all while being bullied, harassed, pushed into lockers…"

Quinn's arms tightened around Rachel. "Go on."

"But amidst all that, I found my friends who love theatre and art as much as I do. And it was in theatre that I met this guy, Finn. And, well… I believe I fell in love with him. But he was the type of guy whose dreams go as far as his arms could reach. He didn't want to leave Lima, which I understood — Lima was safe. His mom, his stepdad, they were all there. During our senior year, he asked me to marry him."

The older woman let out a soft breath through her nose but said nothing, so Rachel continued. "And I almost said yes. But in that moment, I grew so afraid that I'd be a Lima Loser that I broke up with him then and there. I loved him, but I love my dreams more."

"Good," Quinn's voice sounded hoarse, and she clutched the fabric of Rachel's shirt in a tight fist. "I'm so proud of you. If I had been your age… If I knew you back then, I would have supported your decision, even if it hurt him. Even if it hurt _you_."

Rachel smiled and breathed in the scent of her hair. "Thank you."

Quinn craned her neck towards Rachel, and the younger woman immediately understood what she wanted. She lowered her mouth to hers for a warm kiss that curled her toes from its sheer depth and softness. They sighed into each other's cheek and giggled.

Neither knew who fell asleep first, but Rachel's internal clock woke her up as the light of dawn pierced through the gaps of the curtains while Quinn continued to sleep. Locks of her golden blonde hair covered her eyelids. While Rachel did not want to disrupt her sleep, it would be a lot to explain if Beth ever looked into her mom's bedroom and not find her there…

She shook Quinn awake, but the blonde only groaned. "Quinn, you have to wake up."

Her eyes shot open. "Crap," her voice, hoarse and laced with sleep. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Eased herself out of Rachel's bed. "I'll see you downstairs," she told Rachel over her shoulder and walked out of Rachel's room.

* * *

After half an hour, Rachel decided it was enough gap time to avoid any suspicion. She headed downstairs and was surprised to find Beth there, fully-dressed and ready to head out, wherever that may be. Quinn stood behind the stove, frying up some eggs while bread toasted in the countertop oven.

"Are you sure it's safe? There was a snowstorm overnight, you know," Quinn said.

"It's just a little snow. And you're acting like I didn't grow up with New Haven snowstorms," Beth teased as she wrapped her neck with her scarf. Upon seeing Rachel, she waved. "Hi. You're up late."

"I was reading," Rachel replied. "Where are you going?"

"Meeting up with some more high school friends," Beth said, rolling her eyes. "It never ends. They all want to hear about New York."

"You act like that's such a burden," Rachel laughed.

"It's really not," Beth grinned. "Anyway, I'll be back by lunchtime, hopefully." She kissed her mom goodbye and walked out the front door. In the sec0nd the front door was open, Rachel saw the inch or two of snow that piled on the walkway.

"Should I shovel the snow?" Rachel asked when Quinn handed her a cup of coffee. "I don't do any chores as it is."

"Untrue – you make the coffee almost every morning. Plus I pay a boy from the neighbourhood. Don't worry about it," Quinn retrieved the toast and set it in front of Rachel.

"Maybe I was just making an excuse to get you to play in the snow with me."

Quinn smiled against the rim of her coffee cup. "Maybe later."

They spent the morning kissing on the couch. Rachel felt the coil of heat in her belly tighten with every sound Quinn made — every breathy gasp, every tiny whimper, every murmur of Rachel's name. The way Quinn grasped at her shirt, a desperation so palpable that it left Rachel short of breath and weak-kneed.

But still, there was a part of Quinn that held back, Rachel could tell. How she stiffened at any sound that could be construed as the front door opening. How she would stop the make-out session from going too far.

"I think," Quinn gasped. "I think we need to cool down."

"Huh?" Rachel blinked through the daze of having just had Quinn's tongue in her mouth.

The older woman grinned and caressed Rachel's jaw. "I'm saying — we should go out and enjoy the freshly-fallen snow."

* * *

Bundled up in their scarves, gloves, and coats, Rachel and Quinn walked young man Quinn hired to shovel the snow just finished salting the driveway and the sidewalk.

"Hi Ms. Fabray!" He waved his gloved hand, as did Quinn.

"Good morning, Luke," Quinn handed him payment and as soon as he saw its denomination, his eyes widened.

"You pay the kid too much," interrupted a voice over the snow-covered hedges that separated Quinn's house from her neighbours. "For all you know, he's using it to buy drugs."

Rachel leaned against the porch railing to observe the man on the other side of the hedges. He was tall and rugged, with greying brown hair and a thick beard.

"It's his money – he can do whatever he likes," Quinn squeezed the young man's shoulder and offered him a reassuring smile.

"If you'd like, Quinn, I can shovel your driveway. For free. I got a snowblower that can make quick work of the thing for you."

"No thank you, Steve," Quinn said, and Rachel wondered if this was the neighbour Beth mentioned who had the crush on Quinn. "I don't mind paying Luke."

"Well… If you're sure – "

"I am."

"Alright," the older man sighed and returned to his garage.

"Maybe he's right, miss Fabray," Luke muttered, still holding the fifty dollar bill between his thumb and forefinger. "There wasn't even that much snow last night. This is too much."

"Don't listen to him. I know you're saving up for college. And even if you're not, it's still your money. You can do whatever you want with it.""

"Thank you so much! You're the best!" He grinned, gathered his supplies, and headed to the next house that hired his shovelling services.

Before Rachel approached Quinn, she balled snow into her fists. The texture of the snow was _perfect_. It packed nicely and as Rachel reared her arm back to throw it at Quinn, the blonde spun like a whirlwind and threw a snowball.

Rachel watched it arc, distinctly remembered thinking, _when did she make that?_ before the packed snow landed on top of her head.

"Gotcha!" Quinn shouted with a grin.

Rachel threw her snowball but Quinn stepped just out of where it landed.

Rachel might be in love with this woman who just stuck out her tongue at her, but she was also a sore loser with a competitive streak. She squatted on the lawn and proceeded to make her ammunition.

They tossed snowballs at each other until they were breathless from laughter and their cheeks were tinged pink from sheer joy and the winter cold. By the end of it, they abandoned snowballs and instead just went straight for dumping snow over each other's heads. Quinn tugged at Rachel's coat and she lost balance. With a screech, both women fell into a three-feet high snowbank in a bout of giggles.

Quinn's body trembled from uncontrollable laughter as she hovered on top of Rachel. Droplets of melted snow clung to the tips of her blonde locks. Her bright eyes, the pink of her cheeks, caused Rachel's heart to surge hotly. She imagined that the sensation in her chest was what it was like to get shot.

"You make me feel so young again," Quinn murmured.

"Again, you're not _that_ old."

"I know," she sighed, resting her forehead against Rachel's. "I just meant — I didn't have much of a childhood since I was forced to grow up to take care of Beth. So, thank you for making me feel all the things I missed out on, growing up."

"Such as?" Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist.

"Like being a blushing, giggling teenager. Like my heart grows too big for my chest every time we kiss," Quinn said with a soft smile. She kissed Rachel, and whatever cold Rachel felt earlier was now forgotten.

"Mom?"

Quinn jerked and shot up to stand while Rachel remained in the snowbank, not breathing. Her heart sat lodged in her throat, ticking like a time bomb. Beth walked up the driveway and Rachel sat up. "Were you two playing in the snow?"

"It was a snowball fight until your mom went and pushed me into this snowbank," Rachel said with a dramatic groan. "Your mom fights dirty, you know."

"I bet you enjoy that," Beth laughed.

* * *

"Have you packed, sweetheart?" Quinn asked in the midst of washing the dishes from lunch while Rachel dried them.

"Packed…? Oh no," Beth's eyes widened and her gaze darted from Quinn to Rachel, then to Quinn again. "Crap, I _forgot!_"

"What's happening?" Rachel asked.

Beth huffed. "I forgot I'm going to Colorado on Sunday to spend New Year's with my dad. God, I don't really want to meet his new girlfriend. When we went snowboarding last year he bought his then-girlfriend and he was so gross with the PDA I think he forgot I existed." Beth rolled her eyes. "I don't even know why he still wants to see me every year when he practically ignores me."

"He just doesn't know how to talk to you, but at least he's trying," Quinn said. "Wait, he has a new girlfriend?"

The younger blonde sighed. "Fine, okay. I'll pack tonight. But Rachel, will you be okay being alone with my mom for a whole week?"

Rachel glanced at Quinn, who was not looking at her — and likely for good reason. "I think I'll survive."

Beth smiled, and Rachel wondered if she should read anything in the way the younger blonde looked at her, then at her mother with a raised brow. "Okay. I'm sure you two will get along just fine."

* * *

If you spot the IWDFCFTBATK reference, finger guns to you!


	4. Chapter 4

As I mentioned in my chapter 1 author's note, this fic is now rated M/E for sex.

* * *

The day of Beth's flight arrived. On the morning of, she and Quinn scrambled to get ready so they could be an hour early at the airport. Beth dragged her luggage to the car and Quinn spun to face Rachel who was calmly sipping her coffee, watching both harried blondes in amusement.

"We won't be long," she told Rachel. "When I get back, I want to…" her words trailed off. She twirled her finger around the string of Rachel's hoodie. A shy smile curled her lips.

"Anything you want," Rachel said, one hand on Quinn's hip. The older blonde beamed and, double-checking that Beth was not lurking around first, she kissed Rachel. She nibbled on her bottom lip, blunt nails scraped against the curve of Rachel's neck. They both heard Beth call her mom from outside, so Quinn grabbed her keys and with a final look that promised _more, later_, left to drive her daughter to the airport.

Rachel drained the rest of her coffee and washed the mug immediately. She dried her hands, wandered around the living room. Touched the books, their spines, the records on the shelf. She was hard-pressed to admit it, but she was a bit nervous. With Beth gone, it meant… well, that she and Quinn would be _alone_ _together_ for one whole week. And without the tension that Beth's presence kept them in, who knew what would happen?

Would they snap, like two rubber bands stretched to their limits, to collide into one another or be flung across the room? What would it be like, once they were alone?

For the most part, Rachel was afraid that she would careen into her feelings for Quinn — now that the sobering reality of Quinn having an eighteen year old daughter was, for the moment, not so present. And what about if Quinn returns from the airport having realized that all of this was a mistake, and that they should stop whatever _this_ was?

Rachel clutched her chest and huffed. The tightness there was distracting, so to get her mind off the free-wheeling of her thoughts, she picked a record and let the mellow music of Ella Fitzgerald's voice wash over her.

She lingered in the living room, waiting. She must have listened to the whole album while she stared out into the backyard where the silhouette of a picnic table was implied amidst the mounds of snow. Rachel hummed along to a song when she heard the familiar jangle of house and car keys. The front door opened and in stepped Quinn with snow dusting the collar of her coat. Beads of melted snow clung to her blonde locks.

She made her way to Rachel, peeling layers upon layers of her clothing with every step she took towards her. First, she unravelled her scarf and dropped it to the floor. She kicked her boots off one leg and then the other, even if it meant leaving salt tracks and puddles of melted snow on the living room carpet. She shrugged off her winter coat and tossed it beside Rachel on the couch. This left her in her pomegranate-red knit sweater, her long, tweed skirt, and grey tights. She stood in front of Rachel, a little bit breathless from the cold.

"Hey – "

With fistfuls of Rachel's hoodie in her hands, she pulled her into a kiss that scraped lips against teeth and knocked the air out of the younger woman's lungs. Quinn parted her lips, licked Rachel's upper lip, and breathed, ragged and hot, against her cheek. Her nails dug into the flesh of Rachel's shoulder and despite the sweater, she felt the sting of it. Quinn clung to her as if to let go physically pained her.

"I want – I need – " Quinn stammered.

Rachel fumbled with Quinn's sweater, but paused to look at her. "What is it?"

"I need you – right now. I don't need a bed. I don't need any preamble. Just you – inside me, on me, wherever and however I can have you. _Please_, Rachel – I've waited long enough."

A surge of white-hot lust blurred Rachel's vision. _Quinn, Quinn, Quinn_, her body seemed to chant. She tugged Quinn to sit on the couch while she sank on her knees in front of her – out of reverence, out of worship. She reached into Quinn's skirt and peeled off her tights and her panties. Left it bunched around Quinn's right ankle while she sat on her calves to admire the glistening pink flesh of Quinn's pussy.

"_Hurry_," Quinn pleaded, her voice trembling. "You can look all you want later."

Rachel let out a breath. "You promise?"

She climbed to lie sideways beside Quinn. The older woman tugged her sweater off to show Rachel that she wore nothing underneath – not even a bra, to Rachel's surprise. She immediately latched her mouth on Quinn's nipple, her mouth filled with the plush softness of her tits. She suckled, slow and deep. Felt her nipple stiffen immediately against her tongue. She nibbled it with her lips and tugged.

Rachel's fingers combed through a tuft of darker blonde hair that covered Quinn's mound. The older woman clung to Rachel, her tits heaved with every deep intake of breath. Their eyes locked as Rachel's two fingers slipped between Quinn's thickened pussy lips. She caught Quinn's stiff clit between index and middle finger. The tips of her fingers dipped into Quinn's drooling hole, and Rachel whimpered against her breasts when she touched warmth and wetness that made her head spin.

"What were you thinking about, when you were driving home?" Rachel grinned.

Quinn blushed and buried her face against Rachel's neck to hide, but she was not having it. She kissed Quinn's cheek. "Tell me."

The older woman took a deep breath. "I was imagining you between my legs. Your tongue buried inside me, and you would tease me until I'm humping you like an animal, begging for you to let me _come_. When you actually _do_, I scream your name over and over again until I nearly pass out from the pleasure you give me." Quinn paused and cupped Rachel's cheek. "Happy?"

"Very," Rachel beamed. "But that didn't seem like a safe thing to be thinking about while driving."

Quinn giggled. "I know. I was surprised I didn't get into any accidents."

"Thank goodness," Rachel licked her lips and sank her fingers into the wet opening of Quinn's pussy. It sucked her in, eager and wanting. She eased her fingers back out. Saw that they were _drenched_ – glistening with Quinn's cum in the warm New Haven morning light.

Quinn grasped Rachel's wrist, and with her seductive eyes trained on her face, she took the younger woman's cum-slick fingers into her mouth. She suckled them clean.

"Fuck," Rachel murmured.

With a grin, Quinn released her fingers with a slick _'pop!'_ She guided Rachel's hand between her legs, and the younger woman leaned in to kiss her. She parted Quinn's pussy lips and eased her fingers inside her, as deep as she could go. Quinn took her easily, her walls trembling and flexing in eagerness.

"_Oh_ _god_," Quinn grunted. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her lips parted in a soft moan. Rachel never wanted to drive someone to pleasure as much as she wanted to make Quinn come.

So that was what she did.

She sank down between Quinn's legs and latched her lips around Quinn's stiff clit. Her fingers pounded into the slick heat of her core, and its wet, sucking sounds paired well with the gasps of pleasure that escaped Quinn's mouth. Rachel slightly scraped her teeth against the stiff bud of her clit, Quinn gasped, her legs twitched.

"You make me feel so good… And _god_, you're fingers are so deep inside me," Quinn babbled, the heels of her palm dug against her forehead. Her eyes squeezed shut. Rachel curled her fingers to stroke Quinn's walls, her spot that made her eyes shoot open and lock with Rachel's. "Right_ there_!"

Rachel flicked the tip of her tongue against Quinn's clit, while she fucked her fingers into the dripping heat of her pussy. The couch creaked as Quinn's hips bucked. Her body undulated, her toes curled. Her body trembled as Rachel maintained the rough, even pounding of her fingers into Quinn's open and pliant hole.

When Quinn's back arched cleanly off the couch, Rachel _knew_. She curled her fingers again and again to stroke Quinn's sensitive, fluttering walls. Her tongue traced tight circles all over her stiff clit. Cum dripped out of the older woman in a constant flood. Quinn's thighs flexed and twitched.

"Rachel, _Rachel_," Quinn whimpered, her glassy eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I'm _– _"

She was unable to finish whatever it was she was going to say. She arched cleanly off the couch and screamed Rachel's name in an orgasm that sent tremors all over the length of her body. Her walls clamped around Rachel and even as her pussy clenched, she continued to stroke her fingers in and out of Quinn's pussy to prolong the pleasure that wracked her frame.

Rachel eased her fingers out of Quinn with a smug grin. The older woman lay on the couch, the rise and the fall of her breasts a steady rhythm. She sat back and admired Quinn's disheveled form – from her tights and panties around her ankles, her sweater that was only pushed up above her tits. Her long blonde hair in disarray.

"You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Rachel murmured against Quinn's mouth before kissing her deeply.

After a few minutes, Quinn sat up once she was sure she regained control of her limbs. "Let's go upstairs."

Rachel followed Quinn up the stairs to her bedroom. Rachel had only been inside twice — most of their late-night conversations occurred either in the guest bedroom or on the living room couch. Not that Rachel was complaining — she understood completely why Quinn would want to keep this _her_ space. After all, who knew if this relationship (if Rachel could even go so far as to call it that) would go beyond winter break?

"You're quiet," Quinn led Rachel to sit on the edge of the bed. She hiked her skirt up her thighs to mount Rachel's lap. "What's happening in your brain, hm?" She kissed Rachel's forehead.

"I was just thinking of all the things I want to do to you now that no one else is in the house."

Quinn smiled and she curled her hands around the back of Rachel's neck, her forearms rested on her shoulders.

"Earlier, when I said those things… I was shocked at myself. I didn't think I was capable of such thoughts. Especially saying them out loud."

"You've never thought of those things before?" Rachel asked.

"Well – there wasn't much opportunity to do so," Quinn said through reddened cheeks. "I told you – I have little to no sexual experience. With another human, anyway."

Rachel blinked. "Huh?"

"I still feel sexual desire, you know? I get turned on," Quinn teased. "But I rarely watch porn. If I remember, I masturbate sometimes."

Rachel's throat flexed and she gripped the swell of Quinn's ass. "Did you ever watch porn when I was in the house?"

"With the way you kiss me, I don't need visual aids," Quinn said, blushing once more. "I just need the memory and I'm all set."

Rachel brought Quinn's hand to her lips to kiss the back of it. She kissed her lips without a hint of eagerness. A kiss was not just a stepping stone to sex — that was Rachel's philosophy. A kiss was a thing in and of itself. It was second to none.

"Yes," Quinn said, breathless. "Like that. When you kiss me like that, I finally know what it's like to melt."

Grinning to herself, Rachel tugged Quinn's sweater over her head. Now that the older woman was fully naked, allowing Rachel an unabashed view of the ivory curvatures of her breasts, the darkened ring around her nipples, Rachel's fingers trembled and she swallowed hard. When she met Quinn's eyes, she saw her half-lidded gaze, the lazy smile on her lips.

"Don't watch me — you make me nervous."

"_I_ make you nervous?"

"Don't act like you don't know."

Quinn giggled and rose to her feet in order to remove the rest of her clothes. She stood in front of Rachel, naked.

Rachel found her mouth dry, and all she could do was stare. She dragged her palms against Quinn's smooth sides to rest against the swell of her hips.

"Hey," Quinn chastised. "I can't be the only one naked."

"You definitely can be the only one naked." Rachel said though she removed her clothes anyway.

Now both naked, they reclined on the bed on their sides. Devouring each other's lips with gentle nibbles and breathy moans. Quinn was more conservative with her touches whereas Rachel could _not_ get enough of touching Quinn's silken skin. Her hands roamed Quinn's back, her hips, her shoulders, the length of her arms, while Quinn maintained a steady anchor with her hand resting on Rachel's shoulders.

There was a glassy look in Quinn's eyes. "Kissing you feels so good. I never thought it could be anything like that," the blonde whimpered, her face radiated heat. Rachel rolled on top of her and reached between her legs to circle her clit and slip the tip of her index finger inside her viscous warmth. Quinn moaned and she bucked into Rachel's hand.

Quinn reclined to lay flat on her back so Rachel had access to her soft tits. She alternated on sucking each nipple until they were slick with spit and stiff from suckling. She nuzzled between Quinn's tits and meandered her way, kissing along the shelf of her ribs, the flat of her abdomen, the line of her hip.

"I used to have abs, you know," Quinn lamented. "Now all I have are stretch marks."

Rachel kissed the raised lines along Quinn's lower stomach that she would not have noticed if Quinn did not bring attention to them. "You are still the most beautiful woman I have ever met."

"Stop," Quinn said, biting her lip. "You already have me naked and in bed — you don't need to keep feeding me lines."

"I'm not _just_ saying these things to get you to sleep with me," Rachel laughed, though worry marred her brow. "Quinn, do you really think that?"

"I don't know," Quinn said with a shaky laugh. "I really don't know. You're young and beautiful and can have anyone you want. I don't know why you're with _me_."

Rachel dragged her palm against every part of Quinn she could reach in hopes that her affection, her admiration for the woman before her could be transmitted through touch alone. "In any case, you are what I want. So let me have you."

Quinn chuckled and shook her head. "Okay."

Even if she conceded, Rachel knew that it was not the end of _that_. But for now, she wanted to make Quinn feel good, and then _maybe_ she would understand that Rachel really wanted to be with her. Rachel slid off the bed to kneel on the carpeted floor. She tugged Quinn by the ankles so she would sit on the edge of the bed. She palmed Quinn's calves, her thighs. Spread them apart. Her fingers, her mouth danced dangerously close to the lips of her pussy.

"Oh god," Quinn murmured softly. She propped her head up on some pillows so she could watch Rachel.

"Is this okay?" Rachel asked while she trailed kisses along Quinn's leg, starting from her knee up to her thighs. The muscles of the blonde woman's thighs twitched and tensed a little when Rachel's hot breath licked the humidity of her inner thighs.

Now able to have a proper look at Quinn's core, the sight that greeted Rachel was… in a word, _delectable_. Quinn's pussy mound was covered with a down of darker blonde hair. Her thick pussy lips glistened with arousal, and it blushed a bright pink. Rachel distinctly felt herself drooling, so she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You're gorgeous," Rachel muttered, more to herself than to Quinn. She tugged Quinn closer and glanced at her features, saw the look of anticipation in her eyes. Her face looked flush while she watched Rachel's every movement with a glazed look. Their eyes locked. Rachel parted her mouth. Her tongue peeked out and rested against her lower teeth. She pressed the flat of it against Quinn's pussy and licked a slow path to her stiff clit that peeked out from under its hood.

The moan that spilled out of Quinn was like the tremble of an imminent earthquake. She tensed, her legs spread wider.

"_Oh_," she tilted her head back and squeezed her eyes shut.

Rachel grinned to herself and focused on the task at hand. And the taste of Quinn, salty and briny and tangy in equal measure, made the pit of her stomach churn with desire. She needed to taste more of Quinn, as much as she was able. She wrapped her lips around the stiff bud of Quinn's clit and sucked it, with her tongue grazing its underside. Her mouth made wet, slurping noises, and Quinn let out a ragged gasp.

Quinn's fists closed against the sheets and she released a shaky breath. Rachel watched her body undulate, how her hips rose to grind her slick pussy against Rachel's mouth. Grasping Quinn's thighs, she felt the muscles under the tender skin tremble and twitch with every pass of her tongue against her clit.

She ventured lower until her tongue touched the warm viscous spring of Quinn's arousal. Her hole flexed as Rachel licked at her entrance. With small, teasing strokes, Rachel slipped her tongue against the hole — shallowly entering Quinn's slickness before flicking upwards to catch against the slick rim.

"_Hnnnnh—_ah!" Quinn whimpered. She released the sheets to grasp and claw at Rachel's shoulders. The younger woman viewed the column of Quinn's neck, the defined veins, the way the skin flexed when she swallowed down moans that threatened to bubble up and out of her throat. She reached up to gave Quinn's tits a rough squeeze while she tongue-fucked her clenching, grasping hole.

Quinn humped into Rachel's lips and tongue and Rachel felt the quivering of her body. She screamed and her hips bucked. Rachel immediately released her tits to grasp her thighs and keep Quinn from squeezing them shut. She tasted the wave upon wave of Quinn's muscles clenching around her tongue as she came hard. And Rachel once more latched onto her clit to suck the stiff bud to keep Quinn's orgasm extended for as long as she could.

Rachel had no idea how many times Quinn came, She only stopped licking and slurping wetly at her pussy lips and her hole when Quinn whimpered.

"Stop, stop," she said, breathless. "I don't think I can handle another."

"Oh yeah?" Rachel grinned, but Quinn squirmed, so she pressed a kiss to the tuft of downy hair on her mound and crawled up on top of the blonde. Her skin was cool to the touch, and damp. She kissed Quinn, and she clung to her shoulders to suck on Rachel's lips and tongue.

"I think I came four times," Quinn said with a dazed smile. "Though really, I think it felt more like one long orgasm." She blinked. A shiver and a gasp coursed through her body. She pressed her thighs together. "Sorry — I just thought about it again."

Rachel had no problem at all whatsoever taking the lead and, in a way, showing Quinn what she had been missing in one of the many ways to have sex with women. They remembered to drink plenty of water. Downstairs, wearing very little by way of clothing, Quinn retrieved from the fridge a bowl of chilled grapes, a bottle of wine, and some hard cheeses to snack on.

"This is decadence," Rachel said as she sank her teeth into the flesh of an ice-cold grape.

They clinked their wine glasses.

* * *

That was how they spent the first two days of their being alone together. They slept on Quinn's bed, only leaving it to eat (Quinn hated crumbs on the bed), then they would soon return upstairs. They wore clothes only because it was too cold not to, and even then, it was often just a sweater and panties and not much else. Quinn still worked in her office a few hours a day. They hardly left the house.

Rachel spooned against Quinn's side, her cheek rested on the swell of her soft breasts where she could hear the steady rhythm of the older woman's heartbeat. Quinn lazily ran her fingers through thick, dark tresses while they conversed in low tones about everything that came to mind. Right now, Rachel listened to the warm lilt of Quinn's voice as she expressed her aversion to modernist furniture and how irritating she found them. And even though her voice was dynamic and passionate, Rachel still floated along the loveliness of her voice. Paired with the blonde's fingers in her hair, Rachel drifted in a state of near-sleep.

"I almost forgot," Quinn asked. "What do you want to do for New Year's Eve? I was invited to a handful of parties and you can be my plus one, if you want to go."

Rachel yawned and nuzzled against the slope of Quinn's shoulder. "I'll go with you if you want, but not to sound like a hermit but I'd very much rather spend it here, in bed, with you."

Quinn beamed and planted a kiss on Rachel's lips. "I was hoping you would say that. So that's our New Year's Eve, all planned out."

They discussed potential resolutions, to which Rachel responded with a shrug. "It's less of a resolution, more of a goal. I want to land a role on a Broadway production, ideally, but off-Broadway would be good too. What about you?"

"Nothing as grandiose and career-making as that," Quinn laughed. "I was just planning on reading the books I own but haven't read." They were quiet for a minute before Quinn broke the silence. "When's your birthday? I just realized I don't know something as simple as that about you."

Rachel smiled and thought nothing of it when she replied, "December eighteen."

She did not expect the speed in which Quinn shot up from the bed. She flinched just in time to prevent their heads from slamming against Quinn's. "That was only two weeks ago — why didn't you tell me?"

"You... didn't ask?"

"I could've gotten you a present! What would you like?" Quinn sat back on her calves and looked at Rachel as if searching for the answer in her eyes with the way she looked at her. Rachel grinned and smoothed her hands along the swell of Quinn's thighs.

"These legs around me would be great."

"Rachel," Quinn chastised, though the older woman's tone lost credibility when goosebumps rose to the surface of her skin, when Quinn's legs parted like flower petals welcoming the warmth of Rachel's wandering hands.

"Do you remember what happened that day?"

"December eighteenth was… the day I had the executive editorial meeting, which means that was when you met me at work and we went out for lunch."

"As far as birthdays go, it was pretty good," Rachel said. "Especially since I moved out. My dads go on vacations during winter months more and more now, enjoying their empty nest, but they make it up for it with presents. Which is not the same if you're lonely, I guess, but," she shrugged and avoided the way Quinn looked at her and opted to look at the ceiling instead. "So yes – getting to spend it with you was nice. Felt less lonely, that's for sure."

Quinn, rather than say anything, leaned over Rachel so she was forced to peer into hazel eyes that made her heart race. She traced Rachel's cheek with her fingertips. Her blonde locks grazed Rachel's skin. She lowered her lips to Rachel's and kissed her.

If that was Quinn's idea of a birthday present, then it was precisely what Rachel wanted, and more.

* * *

They were discussing the differences between crunchy and crispy foods.

"No, no — crunchy is when the outer layer is crispy when the inside is not. Like fried chicken, or some forms of apple pie," Quinn pointed out. "And this grape too, I would say, is crunchy because the skin is taut!" She said and bit into half of the fruit.

Rachel laughed, her hand rested on Quinn's stomach. "But what about KitKats?"

"They're crunchy, of course."

"But why are they described as having crisp wafers?"

"You're trying to trick me," Quinn said with a raised brow. "The wafer itself is crispy — even the chocolate is crisp because it's tempered."

"So would that make them crispy or crunchy? Since you did say a crunchy food is something with a crisp outer layer but a soft interior."

Quinn was silent for a moment before she tickled Rachel, laughing. "You're confusing me!"

Rachel burst into laughter and tried to squirm free from Quinn's fingers. She grasped the older woman's wrists and pinned them against her sides. She kissed her, slow and deep, until she felt Quinn's arms slacken. Then she released her grasp and trailed kisses down the length of her body. The way Quinn arched into her flooded her gut with desire that she was knocked breathless by it. The way Quinn parted her legs and beckoned to her filled her with such longing.

She dragged her tongue along the slick cleft of Quinn's pussy and relished the salt of her skin. She nibbled her thick pussy lips. Circled her clit with her tongue. Pushed her legs up by the backs of her knees to dip into her wet heat. Quinn threw her head back in a heady moan, her nails dug into Rachel's arm. "O-oh, yes, _right there_..."

Quinn's phone rang.

She tensed and Rachel eased her mouth off the older woman, a line of spit connected her bottom lip with Quinn's glistening core. The blonde whimpered and bucked into Rachel. "I-it's Brittany and Santana…" Quinn panted when she glanced at her phone's screen.

Rachel hummed with her tongue pressed against Quinn's clit. "Do you want me to stop?"

A flash of heat in Quinn's hazel eyes, dark from arousal. "No."

"Kinky." Rachel wrapped her lips around Quinn's clit and watched her arrange her hair so she would look less disheveled. Quinn released a soft breath and answered the phone with a cheery hello.

"What's up, Q! You're still in bed? What time is it over there?"

Quinn's laugh was breathless, shaky. "I'm allowed to sleep in — I'm on vacation."

"That's shocking since you're such a workaholic."

Rachel maintained a slow, even pace of licking Quinn's folds, her stiff clit, and teasing her tongue into her drenched hole so Quinn would not give away the fact that she was getting head while on video call with her best friends. But as the conversation progressed, she could feel Quinn's impatience in the way her legs trembled, how breathy she became, her tight grip on Rachel's wrist and how her hips rose off the bed – as if taking the matter of her orgasm into her own hands.

Rachel grinned up at Quinn and eased two fingers inside her slippery core. Quinn squeezed the muscles of her thighs together.

They chatted more about Brittany and Santana's lives and it saved Quinn from having to speak coherently. Rachel took this time to coax Quinn closer to orgasm. Crooked her digits buried inside the older woman to stroke her spot, her fluttering walls. It was like being immersed in a pot of molten honey – Quinn's slick, calescent insides felt a few degrees from burning. She suckled her clit and pulled at it with her lips.

"What about you, Q? What are your New Year's Eve plans?"

"Mmmmmn," Quinn hummed as if in thought, though Rachel could feel the quiver of her walls, the abundance of the wetness that coated her fingers. "I don't know, maybe just watch New Year's Eve programming on TV, have champagne, go to sleep early."

"God, we're only in our mid-thirties but you're really leaning into getting old," Santana complained. "We should get you to LA. New Haven is making you too old too fast. You're becoming a hermit."

"I'm not a hermit — Rachel's here with me."

"Oh that's right— Beth is with Puck, isn't she? And her friend is still in the house with you?" Brittany asked.

"She is, yeah," Quinn panted softly. She squirmed, her hips rising to fuck herself into Rachel's fingers.

"Isn't it a little awkward? Your daughter's friend staying in the house with you without her around."

"N-no, it's not weird at all. Rachel's a great girl. We get along well."

"That's cool and all," Santana interrupted. "But more importantly, are you dating anyone yet? Hell, when's the last time you got laid, huh?"

"None of your business," Quinn huffed.

"It's totally my business if you go bonkers due to your genitals being dusty and out of service for so long! Do you even masturbate?"

"_Santana!_"

"That's what I'm saying," grumbled Santana through the phone. "I don't want you to fear every sexual encounter you can have just because you had that one bad experience – which was almost twenty years ago, by the way."

"Ugh," Quinn grunted and squeezed her eyes shut, and Rachel wondered if she was actually frustrated by the line of questioning or it was her way of masking her sounds of pleasure.

"Beth told us you have this neighbour that has a crush on you. What about him?"

Quinn snorted and shook her head. "No thank you. Can you imagine how awkward that would be if it didn't work out? We're neighbours."

"So? It's just a quick lay — doesn't have to mean anything."

Quinn glanced at Rachel for a split second and returned her focus to her phone screen. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

Rachel averted her gaze. Tried to ignore the sudden tightness that started in her chest. She focused on Quinn despite her tired jaw. She eased her mouth off her and fucked her fingers into Quinn with a steady pace that brought forth trembling legs and breathlessness. She did not know what else was said since she elected to ignore it but Quinn hung up and tossed her phone aside. Grasped Rachel's head and bucked into her fingers, her name a breathless whimper in Quinn's mouth.

Quinn opened her mouth to scream and her orgasm washed over her. A gush of wetness coated Rachel's fingers, and she attached her mouth to her clit to circle the stiff bud with her tongue. Quinn's legs quivered uncontrollably, her hips arched off the bed. Her walls clamped around Rachel's still-pumping fingers.

Once the older woman slumped on the bed, Rachel removed her fingers from inside her and licked them clean. She climbed beside Quinn to kiss her sweaty brow, but Quinn was not having just that. She curled her fingers around Rachel's neck and pulled her into a kiss.

"I'm going to get some water," Rachel said, grateful that her years of theatre training enabled her voice to remain steady.

"Okay," Quinn smiled lazily. "Be back soon."

Rachel grabbed a sweater and pulled on her sweatpants—it was cold outside the bubble of Quinn's bed. She went downstairs, retrieved a glass and filled it with tap water. But she could not bring herself to drink it.

She released a shaky sigh. The ache in her chest remained. She hunched over the sink and closed her eyes, but they burned. This had always been her problem. A casual thing can never remain casual. Her heart, so quick to leap, so quick to commit and attach itself to possibility before they had a discussion of expectations. And maybe it was a problem to not have this conversation from the get-go and that was why Rachel's feelings always carried her to a far-off distant place where rational thought could hardly catch up with her.

She would have been content to have this be an unrequited crush, something to look back to once she was back in school and reminiscing about the winter break to her friends. But no, Quinn had to entertain her attraction, and now, Rachel had nothing but all this affection, this pining for a future with Quinn that she was now sure she would never have.

The words of Quinn's friends rang in her ear. _It's just a quick lay — doesn't have to mean anything._

It would be best to assume that this was how Quinn viewed being with Rachel, right? Sure, it hurt like hell, left Rachel breathless with pain at the mere thought of it – like her insides, her lungs, and her heart cramped into a tight vice.

As much as Rachel was aware of this cultural obsession with longevity and exclusivity, it seemed, to her frustration, that she was not immune to wanting them either. Rachel looked at the ceiling where beyond floors, beyond walls, the likelihood that her love for Quinn and what they have would likely end in shambles was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Through it all, she resolved that she would not change the way she acted around her. After all, what was the point? If anything, she should be happy she got these few weeks with Quinn at all.

Nothing lasted forever, she knew that. But, she thought, perhaps foolishly, that this would.

* * *

Before anyone gets mad at me for this chapter's resolution, remember that a) Faberry endings are imperative b) I'm not a TV show writer c) there are 2 more chapters.


	5. Chapter 5

Didn't think I'd make the edits for this update because 1) I had the beginnings of a migraine that thankfully didn't follow through 2) I've been playing a lot of Animal Crossing. But I made it!

Posting a bit early because I work from home now.

* * *

For New Year's Eve, Rachel gave Quinn space so she could finish up work for the magazine. Rachel also wanted to get a head start on readings for the upcoming term, so knowing their propensity for distraction around one another, they promised to stay separate until the end of the day, though tempted as she was to linger in Quinn's office just to bask in the older woman's presence.

It was frustrating, given how only a few days remained until Rachel had to leave for New York.

As far as New Year's Eves went, it was not very festive. Usually, by now Rachel would be getting dressed to go to a party or cleaning the apartment for guests, but that was in New York. She found that the New Haven calm was pleasant. No need to worry about how to get to a party or how to get home, since she would not be leaving the house anyway. She glanced out the window and saw that the sun had set. Downstairs, she found Quinn looking through the fridge. The tray of vegetarian snacks she ordered sat on the dining table. Beside it, two bottles of champagne chilled in a large, deep bowl packed with snow.

Rachel snuck up behind Quinn and wrapped her arms around her waist. The older woman grasped her wrists and leaned back into her embrace. "I'm looking for something to cook for dinner," she explained.

"You don't think this platter will be enough?"

"They're just mostly cheese and crackers. And champagne. It's not very healthy. Or filling."

Rachel slipped a hand that disappeared up Quinn's shirt and caressed the warm skin of her abdomen. The tip of her fingers caught the stiff buds of Quinn's nipples. "It's new year's eve — we can live a little."

The low rumble of Quinn's moan transferred from her body to Rachel through their point of contact — her back to Rachel's chest. Quinn spun in Rachel's arms and kissed her.

"You're handsy, aren't you?"

"What can I say? I missed you." Rachel gave Quinn's a rough, possessive squeeze that made the older woman squeak. They kissed again, deeper this time, and Rachel, in a turn of events, pinned Quinn against the edge of the counter. Her hands made quick work of unbuttoning the lone button that kept Quinn's shirt together to expose her curves, her skin warmed under Rachel's touch.

"In that case, I missed you too," Quinn sucked on Rachel's tongue, her teeth scraped against her bottom lip.

Rachel moaned and tore her mouth from Quinn's. She twisted the blonde to face away from her and bent her over the counter. Quinn squeaked and looked at Rachel over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes smoldered with a heat so intense that Rachel felt it in her belly. She sank on her knees and nudged Quinn's legs apart. She kissed the swell of the blonde's ass, the backs of her thighs, felt them tremble against her mouth.

"Fuck," she heard Quinn gasp. Her tongue parted her pussy lips and a low moan reverbed in Rachel's throat at the wetness that coated her tongue. She slipped her thickened tongue into Quinn's pliant hole. Licked at her flexing walls, and held her legs so her knees would not buckle. She relished that now-familiar salt of Quinn's body. She might go as far as to say that she was addicted to it, how it clung to her lips, her tongue. Rachel nibbled Quinn's clit and laved spit and cum all over the stiff bud so it glided against her lips and teeth.

There was something inexplicably erotic with the way Quinn's legs trembled minutely. How she clung to the scant overhang of the kitchen counter, her repeated murmuring of _fuck yes, yes, yes oh my god your tongue — Rachel — _that it took all of Rachel's willpower to keep going, rather than simply bask in it. She curled two fingers inside Quinn. The pads of her fingers caressed the slick walls of her pussy. She stroked her spot. Quinn's hips bucked, and with rough tugs to her clit with her lips, Quinn's back arched and she shrieked Rachel's name. Waves upon waves of her orgasm crashed into her, and Rachel noted how her toes curled, how it took all the strength of her arms to keep herself upright as she clung against the countertop.

Rachel eased her fingers out of Quinn but dragged her tongue along her folds for one more taste. Her tongue slipped inside Quinn's tight heat to relish that feeling of clenching around her before she drew back and stood on her feet.

"Hi," Rachel kissed Quinn's hair and breathed in the scent of her body — the salt-sweat that rose from her skin.

Quinn, with her cheek against the cool faux-marble surface, blinked up at Rachel. "H-hi. I can't move at the moment."

"Can I interest you in a chair?"

She giggled. "I'll be fine – I just need to…"

The doorbell rang and Rachel glanced at the door, then to Quinn. She went to answer it. On the front stoop was a man around his late forties, with dark brown and grey hair. Rachel licked the corner of her mouth. "Hi, how can I help you?"

"Uh yeah, hi. Who are you?"

"I'm Beth's friend. I'm staying here for the winter break."

"Oh," he scoffed and side-eyed her. "Is Miss Fabray around? What am I saying — I know she's home. Can I talk to her?"

This was the same neighbour Rachel saw before they had the snowball fight – the one so desperate to impress Quinn. To see him on her front porch clutching his grey beanie, his hair matted close to his skull all while Rachel could still taste the residue of Quinn's cum on her lips brought a secretive, smug smile to her face.

Rachel had half the mind to lie, so she said, "I'm not sure if she's able to come to the door right now," she said, glancing towards the countertop where Quinn still leaned against, her legs visibly trembling.

"Well, you didn't even try to ask," the man huffed.

Her jaw clenched, Rachel said, "I'll be right back."

She stepped away from the door, hearing the muttered, 'you're not even going to invite me in? Kids these days…' Rachel smoothed her hand over Quinn's back and kissed her cheek. "Hi. Your neighbour is at the door."

"I know, I could hear him from here."

"Do you want to hear what he has to say?"

"Not really," Quinn sighed. She straightened her back and rested her forearms on Rachel's shoulder. "But I suppose I should – or else he wouldn't leave."

"Sounds annoying. Can you even walk?"

Quinn smiled. "Hardly, since _someone_ just fucked me on top of my kitchen counter."

"Sorry," Rachel said, not sounding apologetic at all.

"No you're not," Quinn curled an arm around Rachel's neck for a kiss that dissolved her against the older woman's tongue. And when Quinn drew back, Rachel whimpered, grasped her hips and pulled her closer for yet another kiss. Eventually, Rachel understood that she should let Quinn go. Quinn caressed her cheek and licked her lips. She approached the front door while Rachel lingered in the kitchen to—and she was a little ashamed to admit — eavesdrop. She went to get a drink of water.

"Hi," the man said, breathless from the cold or the sight of Quinn as she stumbled into view, Rachel could not tell. Nor would she blame him if it was for the latter, his shortness of breath. From where Rachel stood within the house, she saw his eyes wander, how he leered at Quinn's exposed legs. "You okay there? You look a little unsteady."

"I'm fine," she said, leaning against the doorway. "Can I help you?"

"I was just outside and I saw that your car is out. It's going to snow tonight so I thought I'd remind you to bring your car into your garage…"

"You could've just texted me," Quinn said with a laugh.

"I know, but face-to-face interaction is a dying thing! We don't want to be like the kids who can't look up from their phones long enough to — "

"I'm not _that_ old," Quinn teased.

"No, no, I didn't mean to imply – "

"Thank you," Quinn replied. "I'll make sure to bring my car in."

She made a move to close the door, but the neighbour stopped her. "I was just wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me this Friday," he blurted out. "You know, as… as neighbours."

"Sorry, but I have work that day and will be home late. Thanks for the invite though. And the heads up about my car," and she hastily closed the front door with a sigh. She approached the couch and Rachel followed her to rub out the cold from her thighs, pimpled with gooseflesh. "I thought he would never leave."

"It's because he could ogle your legs that he stayed as long as he did," Rachel teased while still vigorously rubbing Quinn's legs until the goosebumps from the cold disappeared. "I could've told him you're asleep but your timing is impeccable."

A wave of cold air rattled the door in its frame as it shrieked its way through the windows. Quinn gasped and shivered. Goosebumps rose on the surface of her legs.

"You should probably put pants on."

Quinn smirked. "No, I shouldn't."

* * *

Which was how they wound up back in Quinn's bed. The sun had fully set and they reclined, bare skin to bare skin. The bowl that held the two bottles of champagne packed in snow rested in the sink of the bathroom that joined Quinn's bedroom. The platter of snacks was propped on a folding table. If anything, Quinn was really strict about not having crumbs on the bed.

Rachel's phone was set to the loudest volume for the New Year's eve countdown—in case they lose track of time.

Quinn uncorked one bottle of champagne. They decided to forego the glasses and just took turns sipping from the long neck of the bottle. Rachel could not help but stare at the way Quinn's lips formed around the mouth of the bottle, how her throat flexed with every swallow. The effect was quick but that just might be the way Quinn made her feel – when those eyes of hers looked at her with the white heat of intent that sent a current of arousal in the pit of Rachel's stomach.

Quinn shoved Rachel onto the bed and straddled her. She curled a hand around the neck of the champagne bottle and took a deep swill. She looked tipsy, and champagne dripped from her smirk. It dripped down her neck, and Rachel's eyes followed the trajectory of the drops of champagne that disappeared as if absorbed into Quinn's cleavage.

The blonde licked her lips. "You look – "

"Thirsty?"

She smiled. "Exactly."

She cupped Rachel's face and her thumb grazed the dopey grin on the younger woman's face. She pushed Rachel's sweater up. Her fingers closed around a stiff nipple, eliciting a moan from Rachel's lips. Her eyes raked Quinn's body that straddled her own – her weight rested on her hips. Quinn's dress shirt was open _just so_ to reveal the valley of her breasts, the stiff jut of her nipples under the semi-sheer cotton. Rachel flicked the lone button that clasped the shirt closed to expose the flatness of Quinn's stomach, her bellybutton. She sat up, arms closed around the blonde woman's waist, and nuzzled the space between her tits that smelled faintly of salt. She licked the sticky residue of the champagne on Quinn's skin and delighted in the shiver that coursed through the older woman's body.

Quinn grasped a handful of Rachel's hair on the back of her head to tilt her head back. She took a deep swill of the champagne and kissed Rachel, and the younger woman greedily drank the champagne from Quinn's mouth. They erupted into a fit of giggles, Quinn's arms wrapped around Rachel's head to keep her stable.

Quinn set the champagne bottle on the nightstand and helped remove Rachel's sweater. By Rachel's shoulder, Quinn pushed her to recline on the bed once again. She shrugged off her shirt and flattened herself against the younger woman. They kissed, and heat roiled inside Rachel's belly. She wrapped her arms around Quinn, grasped the plump flesh of her ass and her thighs. Whimpered when Quinn's hips undulated against hers.

The sharpness of Quinn's teeth against her pulse made Rachel weak and light-headed. Her harsh bite, and her devouring suck bade goosebumps to rise on the skin of her arms. Quinn reached back, grasped Rachel's wrists. Pinned them over her head. She paused at the look of happiness that must be on Rachel's face.

Quinn licked, sucked, and nibbled her way down Rachel's arching body. She sucked long and hard on a nipple until it hardened. She spooned Rachel's left side, her legs on either side of Rachel's thighs. The younger woman could already feel the radiant heat of Quinn's arousal, and she could not repress the moan when Quinn's slick heat dragged against the muscle of her thighs.

Quinn's right arm slipped under the back of Rachel's neck. Rachel grabbed her hand to anchor herself to something, so she would not float into the abyss of pleasure. Their tits pressed flush together, and Quinn parted Rachel's pussy lips with her fingers to caress the drooling rim of her hole. She grasped Rachel's jaw and kissed her with an eagerness that eradicated all reason. And when Quinn eased the length of her middle finger inside Rachel's grasping walls, she crooked her digit to stroke the spot that made Rachel gasp and her hips jump.

Rachel sucked on Quinn's tongue, her legs spread wide to give the older woman all the access she needed. Quinn flattened her palm against Rachel's clit. She reached down to hold Quinn's wrist still so that she could hump her hand and fuck herself on Quinn's fingers.

"More," Rachel pleaded against Quinn's mouth. Her eyes fluttered open and she met Quinn's gaze. Fiery with lust, her dilated pupils.

"Remove your hands," she ordered and Rachel's arms flew above her head once more. "If you so much as let go of that pillow, you're not going to get anything from me," Quinn's low, smoky voice caressed the shell of Rachel's ear. Her hot breath singed her skin. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, _yes_," Rachel panted. Her body, restless and filled with pent-up arousal, thrummed and spun out of her control. The authority in Quinn's tone did things to her — things that she did not anticipate — and in the back of Rachel's mind, she wondered how Quinn would view her little rebellion. Would she stop altogether or would it goad her into being more dominant?

But, curious as she was, she did not want to distract Quinn from the things that she wanted to do to her.

Two fingers stretched Rachel, and she grasped the pillow. Her back arched, and Quinn latched her mouth on her nipple to suck. She matched the pace of her suckling with her thrusts which was to say, slow and teasing, but _rough_. Her teeth scraped against Rachel's skin, and the stretch caused by her fingers coaxed Rachel's cum from her pussy. The wet sounds they made was all Rachel could hear.

She lost track of time, had no idea how long Quinn spent teasing her. She would edge her to the brink of something beautiful, something that made her toes curl and left her quivering. But Quinn would ease her touch while maintaining Rachel on that teetering balance with the hot words she spoke into her ear.

"You're shaking," Quinn teased after a particularly vehement groan from Rachel when she withdrew her fingers from her pussy for the fifth time. "I almost didn't stop because the sounds you were making were so erotic. Maybe I should…" she trailed off, the pads of her fingers grazed Rachel's sensitive clit. She was so sensitive that her body leapt at the touch.

"I-I can't be the only one who wants to c-come too," whined Rachel.

"You're right, of course. But I can come whenever I want," Quinn said. She dragged her pussy, her stiff clit, against the defined muscle of Rachel's thigh. "Mmmmm, maybe I should…" She panted. She climbed on top of Rachel, her tits pressed flush against the younger woman, pinning her down. Rachel watched the contortions of pleasure on Quinn's brow with dazed eyes. Her breath hitched with every pass of her clit against Rachel's leg. She could feel Quinn's hot, sticky cum streak all over her skin.

While her own arousal nagged at her, leaving her body as a bundle of nerves that magnified every sensation, she could not find it in herself to stop Quinn from humping her leg in favour of her own orgasm. Rachel lost herself on the way Quinn's mouth parted with her gasps, how she bit her lip, and the soft moans that escaped her. Her cum made her gyrations easier, and she slid the cleft of her pussy to grind her clit against Rachel's leg. Her hips rolled, faster and faster.

"Oh god, _Rachel_," Quinn cried out. She came. The veins of her neck protruded, and Rachel latched on the column of her neck to suck her pulse. The older woman whimpered, grinding in an erratic pace against Rachel's leg until she rode the cusp of her pleasure.

Rachel gasped in relief when Quinn slid off her and buried two fingers inside her once more. The blonde purred in delight at the ease in which she entered Rachel's quivering walls. The pace she undertook was steady, and it matched the racing of Rachel's heart. Her legs quivered. She clung to the pillow underneath her head. Her tits heaved with every greedy gasp of air, made difficult by Quinn's mouth on hers.

Rachel curled a hand around Quinn's nape. "Please, please, _pleasepleaseplease_," she begged. "I'm s-so—"

Quinn said nothing. Without warning, and without Rachel noticing, Quinn fucked her fingers into her without relenting.

No coherent sound left Rachel's lips as the surge of fire and the orgasm she yearned for slammed into her body. She sucked air into her lungs. She couldn't feel her legs, only Quinn's fingers buried inside her to stroke her spot. Her body was on fire, but her skin felt cool to the touch from the sweat that chilled her skin.

When Rachel came to her senses, here were the things that registered.

One, Quinn was looking down at her. Beautiful face framed with blonde locks. A smug grin.

Two, Rachel could not feel her limbs, but was confident that they were trembling minutely.

Three, there was an alarm beeping somewhere in the room.

"Happy New Year," Quinn said, and she lowered her mouth to Rachel's in a soft kiss that regained Rachel's sensation in her legs so her toes could curl from the kiss.

"Was that – was that your plan all along?" Rachel panted.

"Maybe," the blonde shrugged and reached for the champagne bottle that was now room temperature. She took a swig and offered it to Rachel, who swallowed a few mouthfuls. "You know, there's a superstition that whatever you were doing at midnight during New Year would be something you'd be doing a lot of in the next. I'm not superstitious, but..." Quinn tucked her head against Rachel's cheek.

Rachel took Quinn's hand and brought it to her lips to taste herself on Quinn's fingers. She rested Quinn's palm on top of her beating pulse.

"We don't need superstition for that," Rachel said into her cheek.

* * *

For the first day of the year, Rachel texted her friends a greeting for the New Year. Since her dads had been on a cruise ship for the past few weeks with minimal internet (a deliberate choice, on their part), the most they could do was send Rachel long emails, to which she replied as best as she could. She recapped her winter break—omitting the parts where she was naked, of course, which limited what news she could share to her parents.

She helped Quinn clean the house. They opened the windows to allow fresh air in. Quinn folded clothes while Rachel loaded up the washing machine. Rachel swept and mopped the floors while Quinn dusted the shelves while a record played.

On Thursday, they lounged on the living room couch. A vivid beam of sun filtered through the sliding glass doors. On the couch, Quinn lay like a cat, her head on Rachel's lap where she admired the shades of honey and gold in her hair. A movie played on the TV though neither of them paid it any attention.

But Quinn was already on her way to the front door. She yanked it open and froze. She was nudged aside and in stepped a woman who looked like Quinn but older, with silver-blonde hair tied in a neat bun. Underneath her camel coat she wore a tweed coat and pearls. Behind her was a roll luggage.

"My goodness, Quinn, it's freezing outside. Put some clothes on."

"Mom," Quinn tugged at the hem of her dress shirt. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't Beth tell you? I'm on a railroad cruise and New Haven was one of the stops. And I thought I could stay with you because you're my daughter and I haven't seen you in forever!"

Quinn closed the front door and glared at her mother who was in the middle of removing her winter coat. She tossed her coat to Quinn who caught it and hung it on one of the coat hooks. "She mentioned it but she didn't say that you'll be staying _here_. Besides, the guest room is taken."

"By whom?" Quinn's mother demanded, and Quinn looked at Rachel pointedly. The older Fabray caught sight of Rachel. "Oh. And who might you be?"

"Rachel Berry — I go to college with Beth."

"But Beth isn't here — she's with her father, correct?" She asked Quinn. To Rachel, she said, "I'm Judy Fabray, Quinn's mother."

"Beth _is_ with Puck, but I'm not going to run Rachel out of the house since Beth invited her here in the first place," Quinn said in exasperation. "Do you want me to get you a hotel?"

"A hotel came with the trip fare, but I want to stay in your house with you, Quinn," Judy said pointedly and with an arched brow. "Don't you want to have your own mother in your own home?"

Quinn sighed. "That's not what I said. I'm just — it's a waste and I think a hotel is more your style!"

"It's just for one night," Judy said with a small frown.

They (or rather, Judy) decided that Judy would sleep in Quinn's bedroom while Quinn would take Beth's for the night. While Judy climbed the stairs with her luggage, Rachel watched her go while Quinn slumped into her arms and released a muffled yell against the crook of Rachel's neck.

"Don't get me wrong," Quinn pressed her forehead against Rachel's chest. "I love my mom. She's amazing and she did so much for me and Beth... But she's so off the rails with her plans, doesn't care about other people, and just… _ugh_," she slumped against Rachel again.

"It's just for one night," Rachel said while she rubbed Quinn's back. "It'll be over before you know it."

"Quinnie," Judy's voice came from upstairs, along with her footsteps. Quinn jumped in surprise and shot to the other end of the couch, to Rachel's amusement. "We should go out for dinner. My treat."

"Sure. Where do you want to go, Rachel?"

"Err," Rachel looked at Quinn, then at her mother who didn't glare at her exactly, but there was the smallest raise of her brow, and she ever so slightly pursed her lips. "I don't think — you two should go together, you know, spend some time. I don't want to get in the way."

"What a lovely idea, _right_ Quinn?"

"But I want you to come," Quinn said, and from her expression, she saw the definite similarities between mother and daughter. The same expressions. The need to get her way or else. "I don't want to leave you here all alone."

"I really don't mind — "

"Quinn Fabray, listen to the girl!"

"No," Quinn shot her mother a glare. "Rachel's a guest in _my_ house and I will not let her feel like we're isolating her. You know what, let's not leave to go to a restaurant. Let's have dinner here, at home. I'll bring home takeout."

"Oh for the love of…" Judy rolled her eyes. "_Fine_."

Rachel sighed. It was one thing to be caught in a love triangle between Quinn and her neighbour, but another thing entirely to be roped into verbal combat and that one-of-a-kind tension one can only experience with your lover's mother. Quinn headed upstairs to get dressed and left Rachel alone in the living room, listening to a Patsy Cline record and watching the snow from the roof of the house be blown to cover the ground of the backyard.

"I'll be back," Quinn told Rachel once she returned, dressed impeccably, as always. She kissed the top of Rachel's head. "Hopefully my mom wouldn't make things awkward while I'm gone."

Rachel did not want to say 'too late', but it certainly crossed her mind. "Okay, drive safe."

She watched Quinn leave the house, and listened to the rumble of the engine, the sound of the car pulling out of the driveway amidst the crunch of a thin layer of snow. With a small sigh, Rachel glanced towards the stairs where Judy Fabray was busy making herself at home in Quinn's bedroom. The thought crossed her mind that she and Quinn had just been having sex on that bed, with no time to change the sheets, and the sheer embarrassment of it made her face heat up.

To distract herself, she scanned the stack of books that sat on top of the coffee table – books Quinn had been reading earlier – for something to focus on. She took the book on top of the pile. It was a book of poetry. She leafed through the pages and saw that some of the pages were underlined. It didn't surprise her – Quinn seemed the type to write in her books.

_I was afraid to say, you made me feel  
my sectioned heart, quiescent loins, and spill  
past boundaries the way blackberry-brambles grow  
up those tenacious hills I left for you._

and,

_I'm alternatingly brilliant and witless  
—and sleepless; bed is just a swamp to roll in.  
Although I'd cream my jeans touching your breast,  
sweetheart, it isn't lust; it's all the rest  
of what I want with you that scares me shitless._

Rachel's eyes scanned the lines and felt a longing for Quinn so palpable that it knocked the air out of her lungs. So immersed was she in the poetry, the red pencil lines made by Quinn's hand, that she did not hear footsteps come down the stairs until Judy turned on the tap in the kitchen.

"Quinn must think me a fool if she thinks I cannot tell that something is going on between you two," said Judy. And Rachel could not help but think she was quick to the point, went right to the chase. Aimed for the jugular and without letting up, slit the source of the weakness. "You are alone in the house and she was not wearing pants, for crying out loud. What is a mother to think? Do you think I am a fool, Rachel?"

"No, Mrs. Fabray," Rachel said through parched lips and a racing heart. She felt like an animal cornered, and with Judy's eyes — so much like Quinn's but full of ice, ferocious and fierce and sharply lined — trained on her, Rachel cowered. She wanted to escape, but to where?

Judy paced around the kitchen, then to the living room where she straightened throw pillows and folded the blanket over the back of the couch. "You cannot possibly begin to understand Quinn's experiences — having Beth at such a young age skewed her view on relationships. In short, she grew afraid to have them. Whatever it is that you two have is clearly just a transitory thing, you understand," Judy did not pose it as a question but rather, as a clear statement of fact. "Something to pass her time while she finds someone… of _substance_. To marry."

Rachel wanted to argue, wanted to say, you have no idea what Quinn feels about me — but she did not say anything because then again, neither did she. So all she could do was bite her lip and stare at the patterns on the rug beneath her feet.

"A mother knows best," Judy continued. "And that carries on from childhood, and even unto adulthood. Pardon my directness, but _you_ are not what's best for my daughter."

It was akin to a punch to the gut. All Rachel wanted to do was cry and lean into the hurt but she dared not do it in front of this woman who knew Quinn better than she did, who only had Quinn's interests at heart. Rachel was, after all, an outlier, knew Quinn only for the better part of the month while Judy was her _mother_. There could possibly be no competition there.

Judy turned her back on Rachel and primly cleared her throat. Rachel took that opportunity to close the book she had been reading moments earlier and made her escape to the guest room. Her back leaned against the door, the knob dug against the small of her back. It hurt, but not as much as the burning in her lungs.

The truth of Judy's words rang in Rachel's mind like the funereal toll of a bell. How could she, young as she was, ever be what was good for Quinn? Quinn, who was elegance personified, refined and beautiful and with an air of maturity that was, for Rachel, something aspirational.

So then if Quinn had it all, what could she possibly see in Rachel?

Rachel set the book on her nightstand and collapsed face first into the pillow. She heaved a great big sigh that did nothing to dispel the ache in her chest and embraced the hurt that knocked her breathless, that clenched her insides in a grip like a vice. Which was, if anything, something she was good at.

* * *

Rachel stirred from an accidental nap that allowed her to cease feeling the sadness and despair of having Quinn's mother tell her, in not too many words, about her inadequacy to be with her daughter. It was, if anything, one of those harsh truths that felt like she _knew_, in her core, but to concede to this truth—to end the joy that accompanied being with Quinn, was too much for Rachel to bear.

Yet, she knew. She must grow to accept that Quinn would not be hers forever, if she even was _hers_ at present...

At least she got what she got, right? And relished every minute of it, from Quinn's light caress to her more forceful grasp of Rachel's thighs, her wrists, the hair on the back of her head…

With a shaky breath, Rachel rubbed the late afternoon sleep from her eyes. Just as she stretched, the sound of the front door opening, the cacophony of keys against stainless steel, announced Quinn's return from the outside world. Rachel so wanted to see her, to return to the prelapsarian moment, prior to meeting Quinn's mother. Before she was forced to face the truth of their circumstance. Bitterly, Rachel cursed the Fabray matriarch's presence in the house. She would have been more than happy to live in the grand delusion of playing house, playing romance, playing love, until the moment that she had to leave.

But, Rachel weakly admitted, it would have been unfair to Quinn. Rachel had the upper hand of escape—into New York—while Quinn would have no choice but to remain in the embers of their passionate love affair.

No, this was the right path to undertake, Rachel thought. It was best to cease and desist now. Break both their hearts sooner, rather than later, when they would be drowning in it. When they would believe the lie.

Rachel remained in bed. She did not want to see Quinn and be struck with love in front of the mother that berated her. She curled into herself, clung to the pillow and prayed that Quinn would not seek her – knowing full well that the woman would. And, sure enough, she heard a soft knock against the doorframe and Quinn's voice lined with worry.

"Rachel? It's dinner time. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. But she wanted to yank open that door and fling herself into the arms of the blonde woman. She stared at the plated door knob that glistened gold from the streetlamps outside and willed it turn, to open the door, to let love in. "I'm just… not hungry."

"But you feel alright? You don't feel ill?"

"No, just not hungry."

There was silence behind that piece of wood that kept Quinn out and kept Rachel in the confines of the misery of her own making.

"Okay. Feel free to come down if you ever feel like it," came Quinn's soft voice, and then the receding echo of her footsteps.

Rachel stared at the ceiling and fought the temptation to surge out of the bedroom and explain herself to Quinn.

This is for the best, she thought. Her stomach growled—in dissent or in agreement, she had no clue—and she buckled down in preparation for the long night.

In order to distract herself from her own emotional ordeal, she sent a text to her roommate group chat in hopes that Mike, Tina, or both would be available to chat. Both were, and she immediately called them up.

"Happy new year! We finally heard from you," came Mike's voice in Rachel's ear. "You were pretty much AWOL for two weeks. What's keeping you busy?"

"Oh, nothing much. Hanging out with Beth and her mom," Rachel hoped she sounded offhand and casual enough. In the beginning, when she and Quinn first kissed, she imagined the thrill of telling her friends of this development, but she chose to keep it to herself instead. Now, the thrill was gone and it now just tasted bittersweet.

"Oh yeah? How did you spend New Year's Eve?"

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and remembered—how hopeful she had been, how ecstatic, how happy to be in love. She should have known—all of this had been too easy, and an easy gain is an easy loss, wasn't it?

"Had champagne, watched the ball drop. It was pretty boring," Rachel lied.

"How are you handling your crush on Beth's mom?" Rachel heard the teasing lilt in Tina's tone. "Did Beth figure you out yet? Heck, with how obvious you are with your crushes, did _her mom _figure you out yet? Oh my god, remember when you had a crush on Mr. Schue?"

"Don't bring that up!" Rachel huffed. "Beth's not around right now — she went to Colorado to go skiing with her dad."

"Wait, does that mean you're alone? With her?"

"No, her mom's here."

"Yikes, talk about Beth's grandma cramping your style, dude."

"Anyway, it doesn't matter—you guys are back from Lima, I assume. There's no way you would want to spend a whole month there."

"We're back in the apartment, yeah," Tina said. "I only get two weeks off work, so it was a pretty convenient excuse for our escape."

Mike brought up the mini-reunion that occurred with the theatre kids and their supervisor, how it ended up in a Shakespeare recitation contest, _as always_.

"Marlowe's better," Rachel muttered. "But we all knew that."

They talked into the night, where Mike and Tina recollected the shenanigans of their friends who remained in Ohio that for a brief, glittering moment, she wished she visited. Had she done so, maybe she would not be suffering through the emotional turmoil that she was currently knee-deep in.

"You're really quiet, Rachel," Mike noticed. "And I don't know if I should be worried."

"Why would you be worried?"

"You haven't said much about your vacation and it's just… odd," Mike replied. "A few weeks ago before you went radio silent you always seemed eager to talk about Quinn this and Quinn that. Did something happen?"

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat. "Nothing happened — I'm just looking forward to going back to New York, that's all."

"A little homesick, huh?" Tina said. "I feel you."

They avoided the topic of Quinn for the rest of the phone conversation, to Rachel's relief. She hung up when Tina and Mike excused themselves, since they had work in the morning. With her phone resting against the flat of her chest, Rachel's stomach rumbled.

Since it was late, it would be safe to assume that the two Fabray women retreated into their respective rooms, right? Or, if they were up late conversing, Rachel would surely hear their voices carry from the top of the stairs. She snuck out of the guest bedroom and on her tiptoes, went halfway down the stairs, where she could hear nothing but the winter wind as it whistled against the pine boughs. Rachel finished her descent and headed into the kitchen.

She ate two bananas and a glass of almond milk, just enough to silence her stomach. It felt surreal to stand in the dark, in the kitchen of the woman you love without her in it. Given also, that the inevitable heartbreak approached, and Rachel could see it careen towards her, a hundred miles an hour. A firestorm waiting to happen.

There was no easy way to dispel the dread that lurked in her stomach. On the upside, only a few days remained before she returned to New York.

On the downside, only a few days remained before she returned to New York and left Quinn forever.

Rachel took to the stairs, one step at a time. Her ankles heavy with dread. When she approached the guest bedroom, she saw the fan of light by the foot of the door that she did not remember turning on.

She entered, and there sat Quinn. Her back to the headboard, the book of poems on her lap. Even when she was breaking Rachel's heart, she still looked beautiful. She returned the book to the bedside table and looked at Rachel. Half of her features were cloaked in shadow and it made it difficult to read the expression on her face.

"I'll return the book later – "

"I don't care about that," Quinn snapped. "Why didn't you come down for dinner?"

"I told you, I wasn't hungry."

"We didn't have lunch — how could you not be hungry?" Quinn smoothed her hands over the blanket placed over her lap. In the way those hands made Rachel come alive, those hands were also her undoing. "Won't you lie down beside me?"

"I shouldn't," Rachel stammered, and Quinn looked at her, hurt. "Your mom is right next door, and—"

"Oh, so this is about her? Don't worry — "

"_Quinn_," to Rachel's surprise her voice did not waver in the utterance of her name. It came out as a whispered thing, soft and yet unbroken. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"I'll hold you while you sleep. We'll be quiet – she won't notice, or hear anything.," There was desperation in Quinn's voice now, and with every second that passed, it made it more and more difficult to refuse her pleading hazel eyes. Rachel steeled herself. For the long run, she told herself. Break your heart now to save yourself from deeper grief later on.

Why then, did it feel like she was not saving herself from anything at all?

"I think—I think I want to sleep alone." Rachel lied.

Quinn looked at her in a way that made Rachel regret every choice that led to the hurt in those eyes. Made Rachel want to fall to her arms and say, no, I'm sorry, I don't mean it, I never want to sleep alone, I only want to sleep with you. So Rachel avoided her gaze and stared at the melancholy of the blue walls behind Quinn's head. Slowly, the blonde woman rose from the bed. The volume of her footsteps as she approached, the sunlight of her perfume. Rachel was weakened by it all.

"Okay," Quinn whispered. Her right hand curled around the nape of Rachel's neck. Bidden by muscle memory, Rachel tilted her chin upwards and their lips met in a soft, deep kiss. Rachel's heart clenched into a fist that refused to let Quinn go. Her hands rested on the flare of Quinn's hips. The skin underneath the light fabric of her shirt warmed her palms.

Why did this kiss feel like drowning? Why did it feel like it would be the last time?

This _was_ for the best, wasn't it?

Quinn caressed the line of Rachel's jaw with her thumb. The vivid sadness in her eyes was so breathtaking that Rachel wanted to hold her by the waist until the world stops all movement, all revolution. "Sleep well, Rachel."

She left Rachel alone in the guest bedroom and took with her what felt like all the warmth of the universe.

* * *

The two poems are from Marilyn Hacker's _Love, Death, and the Changing of Seasons, _"Coda" and "Witless", respectively.

Next chapter is the last chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel, in fact, did not sleep well that night.

She spent the entire hours of the night awake, staring at the painted ceiling. Watched the dawn rise against the walls through tired eyes and an even worn down heart. She hardly slept, drifting in and out of sleep while she shivered in despair and longed to be in the same bed as Quinn.

For an hour, she slept until the clock struck seven. Damning all else, Rachel got dressed and headed downstairs. She needed to see Quinn regardless of her mother being there. Rachel stopped by the bathroom to brush her teeth and to stare at the darkened skin under her eyes all while psyching herself up. She made her way downstairs and, halfway down, heard the sound of voices. Her step faltered and she sat on the step to listen.

" – when will you stop dawdling and settle down with a nice man?" Judy's voice was loud for the morning, and Rachel could only imagine what Quinn felt at the moment. "I know modern women like to think that they are capable of taking care of themselves and that's all well and good, however – "

"_You_ managed just fine when you divorced dad," came Quinn's voice over the rush of water by the sink. "And you're managing pretty well right now, so I don't see why you think I have to marry anyone, let alone a man."

"I'm just worried about you, that's all. You work too hard – if you have a husband, he can support you and care for you. You can even work less."

"I like my job. And I'm doing fine on my own, thanks."

"You truly think people who are doing well do things like sleep with their daughter's friend?" Judy snapped, and Rachel felt the air rush out of her lungs as if punched in the gut. "_Really_, Quinn, I cannot possibly conceive of what goes through that brain of yours. Down the line, I assure you – you will worry about what the tabloids would say about her, dating an older woman such as yourself. That is, assuming that she makes it big in the theatre world in the first place."

"She will," Quinn bit out. "Rachel will be a _star_."

"You are focusing on the wrong thing here," Judy chastised. "You need to stop being a selfish brat and think about the repercussions of this… fling you have with this girl. Maybe it would have been acceptable if it was a man, but Quinn, a _woman_? I should have known that Santana and Brittany are nothing but a negative influence on you."

This, Rachel realized, went deeper than just her. Here was Judy, releasing pent-up concerns and biases that she kept buried for so long. Rachel was just the _symptom_. The easiest scapegoat Judy could use to point out the flaws she found in the way Quinn lived her life.

"I thought you liked Brittany and Santana."

"I did – I do. I think they're fantastic, but it's because of them that you are probably going through this… this _phase_."

"They have nothing to do with me and Rachel," the way Quinn's voice wavered left Rachel weak. All she wanted was to protect Quinn, be there for her to prove to her mother that this was no phase, no one-off, no mere accident.

"Right, and I suppose you came to the decision to sleep with a woman on your own," sarcasm bled through Judy's tongue. But still, as much as Rachel wanted to make her presence known, this was still between mother and daughter. To interfere was not her place.

"Oh, but it is."

"Please," Judy scoffed. "You're not a lesbian."

"You don't know that," Quinn retorted.

"And besides, don't you care what other people think? You're not sixteen anymore – you can't pass this off as another one of your youthful mistakes. And what if people think you're being predatory, being with a girl eleven years your junior? God, Quinn, don't you _think _before you _act_?"

The silence that followed was telling, and it made Rachel worry. She rose to her feet and took a few steps down but paused when she heard Quinn's voice, its quaver and lilt and the fortitude that pillared the retort.

"I know you're just using her to point out all my flaws so leave her out of this. If you cared enough to look, Rachel makes me happy. I've never been anything but myself around her and I'm aware I've only known her for a month, but mom, I don't care what people think. You _taught_ me not to." Quinn laughed, breathless. "I don't even remember if I've ever felt this way with _anyone_. Can't you just be happy for me?"

"What would Beth think, Quinn, if she finds out that her mother is with a younger woman?"

To that, Quinn had nothing to say.

"That's what I thought. End things with her, Quinn. It'll be better in the long run. You've had your fun, now it's time to return to the real world, alright?" Judy's voice took on a gentle, cajoling tone that left Rachel feeling uneasy. "I'll send you photographs of my friends' sons – I'm sure you'll like one of them. They're all handsome, I assure you – "

"I don't want a man. I want _Rachel_."

"Quinn, you're being immature."

"No, _you_ are. You can't just come into my house and criticize every choice I made, especially ones that have to do with _my_ happiness. I don't care an ounce for respectability, or what _you_ think is respectable." Quinn's voice rose, feverous, words spoken through gritted teeth.

"After _everything_ I've done for you – the sacrifices I had to make to cover up your mistakes – "

"Get out."

"What did you say?"

"Your taxi is here. Get _out_."

The sound of the front door opening, of luggage being pulled, an affronted gasp. The silence that followed the slamming of the front door shut. Rachel rose to her feet and ran downstairs and saw Quinn's back. Her shoulders heaved with rough intakes of breath, only the sound of the taxi pulling out of the driveway could be heard.

At the sound of Rachel's footsteps, Quinn turned and their eyes met. The tears that lingered in the corners of her eyes that rimmed them red ached Rachel's chest. "Rachel," she gasped. "Were you listening this whole time?"

"I am, and I'm sorry that I was eavesdropping, but I just wanted to let you know that I don't care if the world thinks I'm strange for dating an older woman. You're not being predatory and out of my own, whole-hearted volition, I was with you, and want to be with you," Rachel spoke the words in a rush, her heart a wild, beating thing. "But… Beth. I don't know what Beth would think."

The tears that lingered in the corner of Quinn's eyes soon fell, and she hastily wiped them.

"The other night – I'm sorry I pushed you away. Your mom said some things that made me think that she had the right of it – " Quinn's expression tensed and her shoulders, the way she held herself, tightened. "But all night, I can't help but think of you. I want to be with you, Quinn, but I won't blame you if the issues your mother raised prevents you from wanting to be with me. In fact, I understand _completely_. But I – " Rachel faltered, the steam of her passion raged. Quinn looked at her, those hazel eyes shone with further unshed tears. Yet she smiled.

Rachel swallowed. "I think we'll be worth it."

"Thank you. I'm glad to hear you say that," she glanced at the digital clock of the stove and her smile faltered. "I have to go to work."

"I know," Rachel said. The adrenaline, now diminished from her veins, left her exhausted. "Have a good day, okay?"

Her smile trembled and she released a soft breath. Rachel wanted nothing more to hold her through the tears. "I'll try."

* * *

For the duration of that day, Rachel felt a restlessness that prevented her from sitting still long enough to focus on a book. She surfed through television channels, looked through Netflix for a film to watch, but nothing caught her interest. The only thing that her brain could fixate on was anything that related to Quinn. What could she be doing now, has she had lunch, how was work treating her?

At least she managed to sit at the piano long enough to finalize the arrangement of the performances. She took photos of her notations on the music sheets, smiled faintly at the sight of Quinn's note from weeks ago, then sent the images to Tina who would double-check them and then print them out properly, come the start of winter term.

The rest of the day yawned before her, and Rachel had no idea what to do. So, she defaulted to what she did to fill the time, back in high school. She watched _Funny Girl. _

She stayed on the couch, waiting for the telltale sound of the garage door, footsteps, the engine cutting. The sunlight faded into moonlight. Still, she remained on the couch. Waiting for Quinn to return.

Beth dragged her suitcase up the porch steps and let herself in through the front door. It was ten in the morning, so she was not surprised to see Rachel on the living room couch. What did surprise her, however, was the fact that she was alone.

"Hey, you're back!" Rachel greeted Beth with her usual brilliant smile. But, Beth noticed, that Rachel looked exhausted. Like she lacked sleep. Like something worried her. "How was skiing?"

"Same old, same old," Beth replied as she looked through the tray of mail. "Cold. And I'm sore."

"Really? I've never been."

"We should go – like a glee club trip!"

"You should bring it up when we meet again."

Beth grinned and ripped through an envelope addressed to her. "Cool. Where's mom?"

At the mention of the older Fabray, Rachel faltered and sighed. "She's – she got home late last night – work was busy and she had a lot of meetings, she said. So she's still asleep."

The younger Fabray eyed Rachel as she sat on the armchair across from her. Judging from Rachel's distant gaze, Beth knew she should breach the topic carefully. She moved from the armchair to sit beside her. "Did something happen between you and my mom? And does it have anything to do with you sleeping on the couch?"

Rachel pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on top of her knees. "In a roundabout way, yes. I was waiting for her to come home, but I guess I fell asleep. Did anything happen between me and Quinn? Well, where do I even begin?"

"For starters, I know you have a thing for her," Rachel shot Beth a look, and she held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Which is okay! Better you than a strange man in this house, I think. Did you two…?" Rachel sighed and nodded. "So then, what's the problem? If you like her and she seems to like you back?"

"Your grandmother happened," Rachel said with a weak chuckle.

Beth slumped back against the couch with a frown. "Oh. She didn't mention anything about visiting."

"She mentioned her vacation and having New Haven as a stopover – I remember you told Quinn about it. She showed up at the front door and," Rachel's shoulders slumped. "The rest was history. As soon as she caught me alone, she told me that I should stop whatever it was that is between me and Quinn."

This was news to Beth. All her life, she thought her grandma was, if not accepting, at least tolerant. "But I didn't think she'd be against mom being with a woman, since my aunts – "

"Look, I don't want to slander your grandmother in your eyes."

"You're not slandering, just telling me the truth. What did she say?"

"She thinks," Rachel began with a deep sigh, with eyes full of sadness. "That I'm just a fling and a figurative car crash waiting to happen, and why can't your mom just find a nice white man with a fade and a beard who works in finance, get married and have more kids – "

"Rachel, I will _riot_ if my grandma did say that."

Rachel laughed. "Sorry, that part was an embellishment. But she does want Quinn to find a man to marry so he would take care of her."

"But my mom is doing fine on her own," Beth pointed out. "And, I don't know if my grandma forgot, but she doesn't have a man since she was divorced."

"That's what Quinn said, but I think your grandmother is projecting what she wants, you know, which is a man in her life. Or whatever it is she finds to be the epitome of respectability. She also said a bunch of other things, like, what if me and Quinn become a couple and I become famous? What would people say about her being older than me and all that garbage," Rachel rolled her eyes. "And I told Quinn that we would not be the first couple with an age gap in theatre or in the arts. But, I do know where your grandmother is getting at, even though her concerns are different."

Beth nodded. "The idea of conditioning would be a concern, I guess."

"And, I think this is what worries Quinn the most," Rachel met Beth's eyes. "Your grandmother said that I would ruin your relationship with your mom."

They were quiet for a few minutes, stewing in this notion. Beth's mind churned with possibility. It was not as if she did not want her mother to find happiness and love – wasn't she the one who kept goading her mom to go on a date? Admittedly, she did not expect her mom to like women romantically and/or sexually, and this idea only made her… excited for her. It was another thing they would have in common, and it would make her own coming out to her mom relatively simpler, she hoped.

Throughout this winter break she got to know Rachel better. Beth saw that she had the propensity for the dramatic – which was not surprising given that she was an actor, after all. Rachel could get emotionally intense, and cared too much.

And, Beth thought, it does not have to be a man. Despite what her grandma thought.

"I don't see how it would," Beth muttered to herself.

"Look," Rachel's soft voice took Beth out of her thoughts. "I really, really, really, really, really – "

Beth playfully rolled her eyes. "_Okay_, I _get_ it."

" – really like your mom. I want to be with her so much that it hurts to sleep alone. But if it would affect your relationship with her, I'll back off because I know just how important you are to her and I would hate to be the one to jeopardize that. I would never make her choose, you know?" Rachel smiled. "Not that it's any contest."

"You're damn right it's not," Beth nudged Rachel and giggled. "I don't know if you noticed, but I _knew_."

Rachel blinked. "What?"

She nodded, smug. "Well, maybe I didn't _know_ for sure but I had an inkling. You stare at her a lot."

"Anyone would! She's beautiful!"

"Yeah, I grew up noticing people leer at my mom so I know what that looks like – but with you it's different. I've never seen anyone look at her the way you do," Beth admitted quietly.

Rachel swallowed hard and looked at the ceiling. "Yeah."

"So anyway, are you going to talk to her?"

She nodded. "When she wakes up."

"Okay, I'll say hi to her first, then," Beth rose to her feet and stretched, carried her luggage up with her. She headed to her mom's bedroom.

She hesitated in front of the closed double-doors. She didn't think she would come out to her mom during this winter break, but given the state of events, the certain… awakenings Rachel stirred in her mom, it would certainly be easier – perhaps for both of them – to take Beth's sapphic tendencies as a jumping off point into talking about the larger issue, which was Quinn's sexuality and eventually, her relationship with Rachel.

Beth sighed. In a way, she blamed herself for most, if not all of this turmoil between her mom and her friend. But, life must be lived forwards and all that junk. No sense in regret.

Quinn's sleeping form was centered on the bed, covered by brilliant white blankets. Beth crawled underneath the warmth of the covers and smiled up at her mom as she stirred. She hadn't slept in the same bed as her mom since she was twelve and she found herself nostalgic for the boundless safety of Quinn's embrace. "Hi."

"Hi," Quinn smiled and threw an arm over Beth's back and snuggled closer to her shoulder. "How was skiing? How's your dad?"

"Good. Dad says hey but I told him to say it himself, so he might call in a couple of days."

"Did he bring a girlfriend?"

"No, thank goodness," Beth said. "We actually _talked_. And bonded over things."

"Oh? Like what?" Quinn rubbed the sleep from her eyes and propped her head up on her hands.

"Like liking girls," Beth said, though her heart leapt to her throat. She stared at her mom, wary of any shift in expression, and hint of a negative response, though the rational part of her brain placated her anxious side with logical arguments, stating that no, Quinn would _not_ in fact, disown her or, god forbid, stop loving her for liking girls since it would be hypocritical of her to do so.

"Tell me about this girl you like," Quinn said. "Is she from school?"

"She's in glee club with me, and before you assume, no, it's definitely not Rachel," Beth chuckled. At the mention of the dark-haired woman who, at present, sat downstairs in their living room, Quinn's features tensed.

"What's her name?"

"Her name is Marley."

Quinn took a deep breath and stiffened her body. Beth could read the inner turmoil in the furrow of her mom's brow, how she held herself in a clenched manner. Beth wondered if she should just interrupt her line of thinking, tell her mom that she _knows_ what was happening between her and Rachel, albeit not in detail. But she also knew that this was a hurdle her mom had to jump over on her own.

So all Beth could do was wait.

And she did not have to wait long. Quinn released a soft breath, her fingers played at a loose thread on the pillowcase. "I don't mean to hijack your coming out moment to me, darling, but I must be honest with you. Rachel and I… I'm attracted to Rachel. And, I would love to believe that she is attracted to me as well."

Beth smiled. "I know."

"You – how do you know?" Quinn asked, affronted.

"First of all, Rachel's attraction to you is _so_ obvious that if you call NASA, they could probably see it all the way from deep space," Beth said matter-of-factly. "Second of all, she told me when I came in."

"Oh," Quinn blinked. She blushed and Beth could not help but think that she looked so young, so unsure of herself, yet so visibly in love. "What did she say about me?"

"I'm not going to play messenger between you two," Beth replied. "She told me about what grandma said – not in detail or anything. You can tell me later," she said when Quinn opened her mouth to speak. "But right now, she's waiting for you downstairs and she wants to talk."

Quinn sighed and sat up. "Okay. But later. I missed you."

They talked about Judy's sudden visit, but not the particulars. Beth noted the tightness in Quinn's shoulders the entire time, so she decided to talk about something else altogether. She talked about her ski trip, her dad's shenanigans.

But the eventuality of Quinn's descent arrived. She put it off long enough. She stood and stretched. Released a heavy sigh. Beth watched her mom putter around the bedroom while she remained on the bed, her back to the headboard.

"Mom, do you wish I didn't invite Rachel to stay with us?"

Quinn's expression was unreadable. Her loose, blonde locks curtained most of her features. She was quiet for a few seconds before she finally locked eyes with Beth. "If I could redo the past month, I will always, always, _always_ want you to invite Rachel over. The way she makes me feel, the love that I thought I would never get to experience, is all worth it, even if it means fighting your grandma for it."

Beth grinned. "Love?"

Quinn spun to face her vanity, her back turned towards Beth. "I don't know. Maybe. It sure feels like it."

She changed out of her sleep clothes and into a button-down shirt with flowers embroidered at the collar, and a long, flowing skirt. "How do I look?" She asked Beth.

"Beautiful. Rachel's a lucky girl."

Quinn brightened, though she hesitated. "Are you really okay with this, sweetheart?" She asked softly. "If you have any hesitations, you'll tell me, right?"

"I think – I think the age gap between you two is the least of my concerns," Beth admitted. "As long as Rachel makes you happy and she treats you right, that's good enough for me."

Her mom pressed a kiss to her forehead and chuckled. "You're sweet. Oh, before I go… I want to tell you a bit of news. Do you know Condé Nast?"

"The magazine conglomerate. They own Bon Appetit."

Quinn raised her brow. "Well, they bought our magazine. That's why I've had meetings non-stop," Quinn smiled, unable to contain herself any further. "I hope Rachel still wants me because I'm moving to New York in a few months, once the contracts and the sale has been finalized. I'm the new editor in chief!"

Beth gasped. "Mom, that means you might meet Claire!"

"Gee, way to be happy for _me_."

"I _am_! I really am!" Beth threw her arms around her mom's waist, then slapped her butt. "Now go talk to Rachel so you two can be happy together in New York."

"Okay," Quinn giggled. "Wish me luck."

"_Please_, you don't need it. Rachel is crazy for you."

Beth watched her mom throw her head back and laugh. The brightness of her eyes, the vibrant pink to her cheeks, made Beth's heart grow ten sizes too big. Her mom had always been there for her, and now it was her turn. It was nice to see how the prospect of love was not a thing Quinn shied away from – at least, not anymore. And as Quinn walked out of the bedroom to head downstairs where Rachel waited, Beth smiled to herself.

She looked forward to being a witness to their burgeoning love.

* * *

The sound of Quinn's laughter carried through the silence of the house and had its way of winding around Rachel's heart. She could listen to that laugh for the rest of her days – so full of life, so infectious in its lilt and volume. Rachel remained on her seat on the couch after Beth headed upstairs, just thinking. Of nothing in particular, really, but now that she heard Quinn's laugh and her footsteps as she took to the stairs, Rachel could think of nothing else.

Quinn appeared in view like a vision, like a dream, dressed with flowers that framed her pale neck. Their eyes met from across the living room, and as cheesy as it sounded, in Quinn's eyes, Rachel knew everything would be alright. Though a remnant of dread lingered in the hollow of her chest, she smiled at the sight of Quinn and rose to her feet. She met her at the foot of the stairs, and with that small, demure smile on Quinn's lips, Rachel's heart lurched in yearning. Quinn reached out to touch Rachel's shoulder, and Rachel's arm curled around her waist.

"Beth told me you talked about me," Quinn murmured, her forearms now rested on Rachel's shoulders. She cupped the hair on the back of the younger woman's head. "I'm sorry I ran away last night. I could've come back and we could have talked then, but I was terrified. I don't think I could ever get over my issues about my mom – but that's why I go to therapy, right?" Quinn chuckled. "But I'm here now, if you still want to talk."

"I'm willing to talk," Rachel said immediately. "But I didn't want to force you, if you were not ready."

"No, I am," Quinn said after a sharp intake of breath. "You've said your piece, and now I'll say mine. The few days we spent with just _us _– together, moored in bed feels so new, yet so familiar that I cannot bring myself to lie and say it meant nothing. It meant – something, _everything_." A tear fell down Quinn's cheek, and then another. Rachel's gaze upon her face never wavered, and she smiled when the pent-up ache in her chest released into a soft hiccup. "When I'm with you, I don't feel like I'm lost at sea. So if you haven't changed your mind…"

"No," Rachel said, breathless. "I haven't changed my mind. I still want to be with you."

"Even if it means we're apart for long periods?" Quinn asked. "Even if we might break up after three months?"

"Even if it means all of that. I don't care how long we last as long as we are."

Quinn tenderly squeezed Rachel's earlobe. "For the record, I think we're worth it too." She murmured.

Rachel grasped Quinn's waist and longed to pull her close.

She wanted Quinn so much that she wanted to look away, embarrassed by the prominence of her desire.

She wanted Quinn beyond words that all she could do was stare.

She wanted Quinn that it felt like a burning from within.

Quinn's palm grazed Rachel's jaw and the heat of her mouth clung to the skin of her forehead. Rachel's desires piled on and on. She wanted Quinn's mouth, her love, her arms around her neck. She wanted it all.

It was at the foot of the stairs, with their gap in height made conspicuous, that Rachel kissed Quinn again. She craned her neck, and Quinn lowered her lips to hers in a kiss that made Rachel's head spin and her knees weak. In her mouth, Quinn sighed softly, and she took the last few steps of the stairs so they stood on equal footing. In the forest of Quinn's eyes, Rachel witnessed fire's bloom and was warmed by it.

* * *

_Two months later_

Beth clambered up the rickety stairs of the apartment building, and down the narrow and crooked hallway towards her mom's apartment. The walls were yellowed and the length of the corridor smelled like a hundred years of cigarettes, but as Beth let herself in the apartment with her key, it opened into a brightly-lit home. Her mom only just finished moving to New York completely a few days ago, so boxes opened and half-looked through cluttered the floors and almost every available surface. The movers were delayed so there were no furniture besides the three wobbly bar stools that came with the apartment.

She lowered the paper bag of pastries on the counter and looked around for any signs of life. It was ten o'clock on a Saturday. But as Beth scanned the floor of where the living room would be (had the apartment possessed a couch or a coffee table), she found an empty wine bottle, a discarded shirt, and the record player on the floor. Beth followed the trail of clothing. Her face reddened with every step.

"Mom?" Her knuckles rapped against the doorframe of the master bedroom. From within she could hear the drone of sleepy voices and soft laughter. "Rachel? You two better be decent in there!"

Silence, and then laughter. "Depends what you mean by _decent!_" Rachel called out.

"Gross," Beth said, but did not mean it. "Someone come help me make coffee because I don't know where anything is. And I bought croissants."

Beth returned to the kitchen, and after a minute, Rachel emerged dressed in a Yale sweater and tights. "I had the foresight to buy Quinn a french press and a coffee bean grinder as a housewarming present," Rachel said as she unearthed a paper bag from amidst the mess of boxes. She opened up the box and proceeded to wash the press. "Though I don't know if there's even any coffee – " Beth held up a bag of single-origin beans in front of Rachel, and she grinned. "Perfect!"

They set out to make breakfast – Beth laid out the pastries and spreads she bought while Rachel ground the beans and boiled some water. Quinn emerged from the bedroom fully-dressed. She kissed Beth on the cheek and while Rachel pressed the coffee, draped herself against the dark-haired woman's back.

"Long night?" Beth teased. The bell of the toaster dinged and she retrieved the hot tray of warmed croissants. "And before you go denying anything, I saw the wine bottle and the shirt you left on the floor. Along with the rest of your closet, it seemed," she relished the way her mom blushed and buried her face against Rachel's neck.

"Are you helping me unpack today?" Quinn asked in a blatant attempt to redirect the conversation.

"I can't, I'm busy," Beth replied sheepishly. Rachel met her gaze and raised a brow. "_You_ know I'm rehearsing with Marley for our USSC duet tonight, so don't give me that look!"

"Foregoing me for a girl?" Quinn mimed brushing a tear from her eye. "My baby girl is all grown up."

"You've been hanging out with Rachel too much," Beth grumbled.

All three of them sat down on the bar stools to eat breakfast while chatting. After Beth and Rachel returned to New York for the new school term, Quinn and Rachel saw each other only a few times for the past month given their busy schedules. Rachel traveled to New Haven via the Metro-North Rail a few times to see Quinn. Once the sale of the magazine was finalized, that was when roles were reversed. Quinn started visiting New York to house-hunt, and to spend time with her daughter and her girlfriend.

Beth's grandma contacted her a few times in the past few weeks in her attempt to wheedle information about Quinn. As far as Beth knew, Quinn only told her grandma that she was moving to New York, but did not tell her the reason. That was why her grandma tried being sneaky about the whole thing. It got so frustrating that during one phone call, Judy, in a spirit of conspiracy, told Beth about Quinn dating someone _much_ younger than she.

To which, Beth replied, "I _know_, grandma. Rachel's my friend."

Judy gasped in shock. "And you fail to see any issue in this?" She demanded.

"Yep! Mom's the happiest I've seen her in a while. And I think Rachel is good for her," while this phone call occurred, she, Quinn, and Rachel were shopping for necessary household items like toothpaste, soap, and bread. Beth stepped away for a bit to take the call. When she glanced back towards the direction of her mom, she saw Rachel holding a candle up to Quinn's nose for her to smell. The sight of this – the way Quinn leaned in, sniffed, and winced. How Rachel laughed at the look on Quinn's face. They walked further down the aisle, speaking in low voices. Rachel picked up ornaments and mindless decor for Quinn's perusal, and the older blonde would shake her head or nod in approval. The entire time, Quinn held Rachel's arm to her chest, no degree of space separated them. All of these small intimacies contributed to the warmth of love Beth felt for her mom.

"For the moment, maybe," Judy muttered. "But – "

"For the moment is enough," Beth interrupted before she hung up and caught up to Rachel and Quinn.

Back in the present, in the midst of the clutter of Quinn's apartment, Beth watched Rachel make her mom's coffee while Quinn listed off her plans to tackle the mortifying ordeal of unpacking the boxes. Her mom's silent thank you in the gesture of her hand caressing Rachel's jaw. It was almost too intimate to witness that Beth looked away to afford them their moment.

* * *

Once Beth left to meet with Marley, Rachel allowed herself to stare at Quinn in the cool, nine o'clock New York light. Quinn stood by the sliding glass doors that led to the small balcony with her coffee mug in hand. Scant the light may be, Quinn still looked warm under the sun, in how the shaft of light struck the gold of her hair. A halo formed around her head, and Rachel rested her chin on her upturned palm and sighed.

"Remind me again how to get to the venue for tonight? The way you described the place, you made it seem like I need to know a specific knock to be let in," Quinn returned to the counter where Rachel sat.

"It's at Bar None. When you go in, just follow the sounds of vocalizing."

Quinn raised her brow. "Are you being serious?"

"I am! It'll be cramped and it's standing room only – are you sure you still want to watch?"

"I attended my fair share of concerts in grungy bars in my younger days, you know," Quinn teased. "I'm sure I can handle it."

"I know you can, but maybe consider… dressing down, perhaps?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rachel looped her arms around Quinn's waist. "You're always so well-dressed but it's for a professional setting. When's the last time you've been to a bar?" Quinn grumbled against Rachel's shoulder, and the younger woman laughed. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Five years ago. That makes me feel so old!"

"Not that old," Rachel murmured. It became a sort-of automatic thing to say whenever Quinn noted her age, or how large the age gap was between them, but Rachel truly meant it. Quinn was _hardly_ old – she was barely in her mid-thirties, after all.

"So you're saying I should wear jeans and no pearls?" Quinn rested her elbows on the shelf of Rachel's shoulders, grasped the back of her head, fingers threaded through locks of chestnut hair.

Rachel looked up at the most beautiful woman she had the fortune to kiss whenever she felt the urge, and smiled. She felt this said urge right now, so she tilted her chin for a kiss. She leaned forward and the bar stool wobbled, much like her knees had she been standing, at the thought of kissing Quinn. The blonde woman lowered her mouth to Rachel's and she tasted the smile on her lips.

"Exactly. No pearls."

They cleared and washed the dishes and began to cut open the boxes to start putting things away. While Quinn surveyed the room to decide where to put the couch, the shelves, and the coffee table – the same furniture she had from her New Haven home – when they arrived, Rachel took to the kitchen, since it mostly entailed putting dishes away in the cupboards. No design eye required.

"Shouldn't you be rehearsing for the competition? Or are you winging it?" Quinn asked.

"I don't wing _anything_," Rachel huffed.

"I'm sorry," Quinn giggled. "But don't you need to practice?"

"I do better if I practice closer to performance time."

"Good. I don't really want you to go; I was just making sure."

They managed to put the contents of five boxes away. In the bedroom, where Rachel was refolding Quinn's underthings, she held up the panties that Quinn once stuffed in her Christmas stocking, all those months ago.

"Maybe I should bring this with me, for luck," she said, holding up the red fabric.

Quinn threw her head back in a laugh. "If you'd like."

Her tone was teasing. Her tone was seductive. Rachel swallowed. "I've always wondered – when you put these in my stockings, were they – "

"Worn?" Quinn smirked. "What would be the point if they weren't?"

Rachel clutched her chest and let out a soft breath. "You're out of this world, you know that?"

Until the furniture arrived with the shelves and the steamer trunk coffee table, not much could be done with the books and records. Quinn did hang up the art on the walls while Rachel watched. To her surprise, Quinn hung a framed black-and-white photo of her on the wall beside a photograph of Beth reading.

"When did you take that?" Rachel asked.

"Central Park, after I signed the lease for this apartment," Quinn smiled and touched the photograph. "Minutes before you asked me to be your girlfriend."

Rachel blushed. That explained the intent in her photo-face. She remembered how nervous she was, even though she was confident in the answer she would receive. It was not the response she was worried about, but the act of asking itself. The words, the question as she asked them, left a trail of fire in her throat. _Will you be my girlfriend?_ Immediately doused by Quinn's soft and confident _yes, of course_.

Quinn stood back to admire the wall and Rachel took that moment to embrace her from behind. She leaned back into Rachel's arms.

"Did you know I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend?"

She nodded. "You were pretty obvious. And if you hadn't asked then, I would have. The moment seemed perfect, you know?"

"I know. It's why I asked then."

Quinn laughed and kissed Rachel.

* * *

Rachel left Quinn's apartment a few hours before the competition started. She returned to her empty apartment to shower and get changed. This delay made her late, but with the sting of too much kissing on her lips and the heated makeout session they had against Quinn's front door, Rachel found that she did not care.

She met Tina and Mike backstage. Beth and Marley were already there, sharing earphones and watching a video on Marley's phone. Their shoulders touched.

"You're late," Tina frowned.

"No I'm not. Our rehearsals were perfect – we're going to win this thing."

"Wow. Being in love changed you, huh? You're not as uptight with practices," Mike nudged Rachel with a grin. "You didn't come home last night so I assume you were at Quinn's. When are we going to meet her?"

"Tonight. She's watching."

An hour to their performance, the backstage became packed with other competitors. Rachel gathered her club members in a secluded corner near the cleaning supplies closet, so the corner was rich with the stench of cleaning supplies. They were in their costumes – a black shirt with their club's name, Note Takers, silk-screened across the front, and black pants.

"So I'm sure you guys know that I'm graduating this term so I won't be president anymore," Rachel said. "Thanks to your unanimous votes, Tina will be president. It'll be up to her on who gets executive positions. I just wanted to thank you for making show choir fun, and I'm glad I met you all," she met Beth's eyes, and they grinned at each other.

"Thank you for being the best club president ever!"

Rachel huffed. "Be quiet – I don't want to cry."

But when they all huddled around her to embrace her, tears fell down her cheeks anyway. She hugged her club members and eventually pushed them away. "All right, that's enough. Marley, lead the vocal warmups, please."

* * *

The Note Takers was the fourth group to perform out of five glee clubs in Lower Manhattan. By the time they took to the stage, most of the patrons were sloshed, the stink of beer thick in the air, and the place was packed. Though everyone rubbed elbows, amidst the spectators, Rachel found Quinn.

Everyone cheered during her solo but Rachel was confident that the performance that won them was the romantic and playful duet that Beth and Marley performed. Sure, Rachel's solo was a show of sheer skill and breath control, but the younger girls' performance was full of youthful feeling. They both had the lovey-dovey eyes going on, and it endeared the sober side of the audience to them.

With the prize money of a thousand dollars transferred into the club funds, they stepped out into the cool New York streets, into the late night. Beth vibrated from the adrenaline of performance, or perhaps from having her feelings returned, judging from the way she and Marley kissed backstage after their group were announced as winners.

Quinn appeared and gave Beth a hug. "That was quite a performance, darling," she said.

"Thanks, mom," the younger blonde beamed. "This is Marley."

To her credit, Marley did not look nervous as she shook Quinn's hand. "It's great to finally meet you – Beth talked about you a few times."

Eventually, Rachel rescued Beth and Marley's ever-growing embarrassment from Quinn's playful scrutiny. She introduced Quinn to Mike and Tina.

"Whoa," Mike whispered to Rachel. "You weren't kidding."

"That she's so beautiful it's unreal? I _told_ you, didn't I?"

* * *

Together they collapsed in Quinn's bed. In celebration of their victory they headed to the sushi restaurant that Mike, in a gamble, rented out for the evening where they had too much beer and sake. They left early, so the party was likely still ongoing even after midnight. Rachel rested her cheek against the cool pillow and watched moonlight pool against Quinn's features.

She must have drifted into sleep, because when she opened her eyes, it was morning. The first sight that greeted her was the sun's bright rays, or maybe it was Quinn's smile, she was not sure.

"You don't seem to have trouble sleeping anymore, even if you're in a new place," Quinn teased, her head propped up on her hand.

"It's the bamboo pillow," Rachel grinned. "And because I'm with you."

She wanted to touch Quinn's cheek, so she did. She wanted to kiss Quinn, so she did. The freedom to do such things and knowing that Quinn welcomed the touch, the kiss, the hand on the curve of her breast, the sensation of stiffening between her thumb and forefinger, gave rise to a feeling so hot, like liquid fire that coursed through her chest. Here was love, she thought, beautiful as flame.

* * *

And, I suppose, that's it. This fic was a good exercise in tension-building and, as per my nemesis, pacing. I still don't know how much I've improved, but anyway.

After this fic, I'm going on a writing break. It's not because I am short on fic ideas, mind you. It's because I neglected my books and my reading, and really, who am I without those? Who knows. Maybe by the time I return with fics in my hand, no one will be around to read them. That's okay, but somehow I doubt it.

Either way, you can find me on tumblr (ficklefic). Or twitter, if you care enough (godsgayearth).


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